THE 


COMPLETE  POETICAL  ¥0EKS 


OF 


ALEXANDER  POPE,  ESQ. 


INCLUDING  HIS  TRANSLATIONS  OF 


THE  ILIAD  AND  THE  ODYSSEY  OF  HOMEE. 


AVITH 

AN  ORIGINAL  MEMOIR  OF  THE  AUTHOR, 

EXPLANATORY  NOTES, 

AND  SEVERAL  VALUABLE  PAPERS,  NOT  CONTAINED  IN  ANY  OTHER  EDITION, 

EDITED  BY  W.  C.  ARMSTRONG. 

IN  FOUR  VOLUMES. 

'  VOL.  IV. 

^  >  “L  ^  .  "I  I  ‘  , 

HARTFORD: 

SILAS  ANDRUS  AND  SON. 

18  49.  . 

BOSTO 

CHLSTNUT  HILU 


ENTERED,  ACCORDING  TO  ACT  OF  CONGRESS,  IN  THE  YEAR  L818,  BS? 

SILAS  ANDRUS  AND  SON, 

IN  THE  CLERK'S  OFFICE  OF  THE  DISTRICT  COURT  OF  CONNECTICUT. 


:  .T'*' 


FOUNDRY  OF 

S.  ANDRUS  AND  SON, 


PRESS  OP 

WALTER  S.  WILLIAMS, 


t' 


HARTFORD 


HARTFORD 


TRANSLATION 


OF 

THE  ODYSSEY  OE  HOMEE. 


BY 

ALEXANDER  POPE,  ESQ. 


WITH 

POPE’S  POSTSCRIPT  TO  THE  ODYSSEY, 

AND 

“CONCLUSION  OF  THE  NOTES,”  BY  BROOME,  &c. 


CAREFULLY  REVISED,  EXPRESSLY  FOR  THIS  EDITION, 
BY  W.  C.  ARMSTRONG. 


HARTFORD : 

SILAS  ANDRUS  AND  SON. 


1  8  4  0. 


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I.t 


INTRODUCTORY  REMARKS. 


It  has  often  been  regretted  that "  a  critical  treatise  on  the  nature  and  conduct 
of  the  Odyssey^'  has  not  as  yet  been  iurnished  for  any  of  the  numerous  editions 
which  have  heretofore  been  issued.  Aware  of  his  inability  to  handle  a  subject 
of  such  utility  and  importance,  the  editor  is  compelled  to  content  himself  with 
condensing  a  few  brief  extracts  from  Bosstj;  and,  "meagre  and  defective” 
though  they  be,  it  is  hoped  that,  in  the  absence  of  more  lucid  commentaries, 
they  will  not  be  altogether  unacceptable. 

Fruitless  efforts  have  been  made  to  procure  a  copy  of  the  third  volume  of 
the  Adventurer,  printed  many  years  since,  which  contained  three  essays  on  the 
excellence  of  the  Odyssey.  It  is  said  "they  were  designed  to  show  this 
excellence  in  the  mEsiner  of  conducting  the  fable,  which  is  of  the  complex 
kind ;  in  the  extensive  utility  of  its  moral;  in  the  vast  and  entertaining  variety 
of  scenes,  objects,  and  events,  which  it  contains ;  in  the  strokes  of  nature,  and 
pathos ;  in  the  tme  and  accurate  delineation  of  ancient  manners,  customs,  and 
habits ;  and  the  hvely  pictures  of  civil  and  domestic  life,  more  calculated  to 
keep  our  attention  alive  and  active,  than  the  martial  uniformity  of  the  Iliad; 
and  in  its  exhibiting  the  most  perfect  pattern  of  a  legitimate  epopee'' 

Many  of  the  remarks  of  Bossu,  which  follow,  may  be  considered  by  some 
readers  as  irrelevant  in  an  American  copy  of  Pope ;  yet  they  are  so  thoroughly 
blended  with  what  is  really  important,  as  not  to  admit  of  being  detached, 
without  materially  marring  the  purpose  of  the  writer. 

The  design  of  the  Odyssey  was  not,  like  that  of  the  Iliad,  for  the  instruc¬ 
tion  of  "  aU  the  states  of  Greece  join’d  in  one  body,  but  for  each  state  in 
particular.  As  a  state  is  composed  of  two  parts :  the  head  which  commands, 
and  the  members  which  obey ;  there  are  instructions  requisite  to  both,  to  teach 
one  to  govern,  and  the  others  to  submit  to  government. 

"  There  are  two  virtues  necessary  to  one  in  authority ;  prudence  to  order,  and 
care  to  see  his  orders  put  in  execution.  The  prudence  of  a  politician  is  not 
acquired  but  by  a  long  experience  in  all  sorts  of  business,  and  by  an  acquaint¬ 
ance  with  all  the  different  forms  of  governments  and  states.  The  care  of  the 
administration  suffers  not  him  that  has  the  government  to  rely  upon  others, 
but  reqixires  his  own  presence :  and  kings,  who  are  absent  from  their  states, 
are  in  danger  of  losing  them,  and  give  occasion  to  great  disorders  and  confusion. 

“These  two  points  may  be  easily  united  in  one  and  the  same  man.  ‘A 
king  forsakes  his  kingdom  to  visit  the  courts  of  several  princes,  where  he  learns 
the  manners  and  customs  o£  di^p^t ^^ons.  From  hence  there  naturally 


Vi 


INTRODUCTORY  REMARKS. 


arises  a  vast  number  of  incidents,  of  dangers,  and  of  adventures  very  useful 
for  a  political  institution.  On  the  other  side,  this  absence  gives  way  to  the 
disorders  which  happen  in  his  own  kingdom,  and  which  end  not  till  his  return, 
whose  presence  only  can  reestablish  all  things.’  Thus  the  absence  of  a  king 
has  the  same  effect  in  this  fable,  as  the  division  of  the  princes  in  the  former. 

“  The  subjects  have  scarce  any  need  but  of  one  general  maxim,  which  is,  to 
suffer  themselves  to  be  governed,  and  to  obey  faithfully ;  whatever  teason  they 
may  imagine  against  the  orders  they  receive.  It  is  easy  to  join  this  instruction 
with  the  other,  by  bestowing  on  this  wise  and  industrious  prince  such  subjects, 
as  in  his  absence  would  rather  follow  their  own  judgment  than  his  commands ; 
and  by  demonstrating  the  misfortunes  which  this  disobedience  draws  upon 
them,  the  evil  consequences  will  almost  infallibly  attend  these  particular  notions, 
which  are  entirely  different  from  the  general  idea  of  him  who  ought  to  govern. 

“  But  as  it  was  necessary  that  the  princes  in  the  Iliad  should  be  choleric  and 
quarrelsome,  so  it  is  necessary  in  the  fable  of  the  Odyssey  that  the  chief  person 
should  be  sage  and  prudent.  This  raises  a  difficulty  in  the  fiction ;  because  this 
person  ought  to  be  absent  for  the  two  reasons  above  mentioned,  which  are 
essential  to  the  fable,  and  which  constitute  the  principal  aim  of  it:  but  he 
cannot  absent  himself,  without  offending  another  maxim  of  equal  importance, 
viz:  That  a  prince  should  upon  no  account  leave  his  country. 

“  It  is  true,  there  are  sometimes  such  necessities  as  sufficiently  excuse  the  pru¬ 
dence  of  a  pohtician  in  this  point.  But  such  a  necessity  is  a  thing  important 
enough  of  itself  to  supply  matter  for  another  poem,  and  this  multiplication  of 
the  action  would  be  vicious.  To  prevent  which,  in  the  first  place,  this 
necessity,  and  the  departure  of  the  hero,  must  be  disjoined  from  the  poem ; 
and  in  the  second  place,  the  hero  having  been  obliged  to  absent  hunself,  for  a 
reason  antecedent  to  the  action,  and  placed  distinct  from  the  fable,  he  ought 
not  so  far  to  embrace  this  opportunity  of  instructing  himself,  as  to  absent  him¬ 
self  voluntarily  from  his  own  government.  For  at  this  rate,  his  absence 
would  be  merely  voluntary,  and  one  might  with  reason  lay  to  his  charge  all 
the  disorders  which  might  arise. 

“  Thus  in  the  constitution  of  the  fable  he  ought  not  to  take  for  his  action,  and 
for  the  foundation  of  his  poem,  the  departure  of  a  prince  from  his  own  country 
nor  his  voluntary  stay  in  any  other  place ;  but  his  return,  and  this  return  retarded 
against  his  will.  This  is  the  first  idea  Homer  gives  us  of  it.  His  hero  appears 
at  first  in  a  desolate  island,  sitting  upon  the  side  of  the  sea,  which,  with  tears 
in  his  eyes,  he  looks  upon  as  the  obstacle  wliich  had  so  long  opposed  his  return, 
and  detained  him  from  revisiting  his  own  dear  country. 

“  And  lastly,  since  this  forced  delay  might  more  naturally  and  usually  happen 
to  such  as  make  voyages  by  sea;  Homer  has  judiciously  made  choice  of 
a  prince  whose  kingdom  was  in  an  island. 

“  Let  us  see  then  how  he  has  feigned  all  this  action,  making  his  hero  a  person 
in  years,  because  years  are  requisite  to  instruct  a  man  in  prudence  and  policy : 

“  ‘  A  prince  had  been  obliged  to  forsake  his  native  country,  and  to  head  an 
army  of  his  subjects  in  a  foreign  expedition.  Having  gloriously  performed 
this  enterprise,  he  v/as  marching  home  again,  and  conducting  his  subjects  to 
his  own  state.  But,  spite  of  all  the  attempts  with  which  the  eagerness  to 


INTRODUCTORY  REMARKS. 


Vli 


return  had  inspired  him,  he  was  stopped  by  the  way  by  tempests  for  several 
years,  and  cast  upon  several  countries,  differing  from  each  other  in  manners 
and  government.  In  these  dangers,  his  companions,  not  always  following  his 
orders,  perished  through  their  own  fault. — The  grandees  of  his  country 
strangely  abuse  his  absence,  and  raise  no  small  disorders  at  home.  They 
consume  his  estate,  conspire  to  destroy  his  son,  would  constrain  his  queen  to 
accept  of  one  of  them  for  her  husband ;  and  indulge  themselves  in  all  violence, 
so  much  the  more,  because  they  were  persuaded  he  would  never  return.  But 
at  last  he  returns,  and,  discovering  himself  only  to  his  son  and  some  others, 
who  had  continued  firm  to  him,  he  is  an  eye-witness  of  the  insolence  of  his 
enemies,  punishes  them  according  to  their  deserts,  and  restores  to  his  island  that 
tranquillity  and  repose  to  which  they  had  been  strangers  during  his  absence.’ 

“As  the  truth,  which  serves  for  foundation  to  this  fiction,  is,  that  the  absence 
of  a  person  from  his  own  home,  or  his  neglect  of  his  own  affairs,  is  the  cause 
of  great  disorders ;  so  the  principal  point  of  the  action,  and  the  most  essential 
one,  is  the  absence  of  the  hero.  This  fills  ahnost  all  the  poem :  for  not  only 
this  real  absence  lasted  several  years,  but  even  when  the  hero  returned,  he  does 
not  discover  himself;  and  this  prudent  disguise,  from  whence  he  reaped  so 
much  advantage,  has  the  same  effect  upon  the  authors  of  the  disorders,  and  all 
others  who  knew  him  not,  as  his  real  absence  had  before,  so  that  he  is  absent 
as  to  them,  till  the  very  moment  of  their  punishment. 

“  After  the  poet  had  thus  composed  his  fable,  and  joined  the  fiction  to  the 
truth,  he  then  makes  choice  of  Ulysses,  the  king  of  the  isle  of  Ithaca,  to 
maintain  the  character  of  his  chief  personage,  and  bestowed  the  rest  upon 
Telemachus,  Penelop6,  Antinoiis,  and  others,  whom  he  calls  by  what  names 
he  pleases. 

“  I  shall  not  here  insist  upon  the  many  excellent  advices,  which  are  so  many 
parts  and  natural  consequences  of  the  fundamental  truth ;  and  which  the  poet 
very  dexterously  lays  down  in  those  fictions  which  are  the  episodes  and  members 
of  the  entire  action.  Such,  for  instance,  are  these  advices:  not  to  intrude  one’s 
self  into  the  mysteries  of  government,  which  the  prince  keeps  secret ;  this  is 
represented  to  us  by  the  winds  shut  up  in  a  bull-hide,  which  the  miserable 
companions  of  Ulysses  would  needs  be  so  foolish  as  to  pry  into :  not  to  suffer 
one’s  self  to  be  led  away  by  the  seeming  charms  of  an  idle  and  inactive  life, 
to  which  the  Sirens’  song  invited;^  not  to  suffer  one’s  self  to  be  sensualized  by 
pleasures,  like  those  who  were  changed  into  brutes,  by  Circe;  and  a  great 
many  other  points  of  morality  necessary  for  all  sorts  of  people. 

“  This  poem  is  more  useful  to  the  people  than  the  Iliad,  where  the  subjects 
suffer  rather  by  the  hl-conduct  of  their  princes,  than  through  their  own  mis¬ 
carriages.  But  in  the  Odyssey,  it  is  not  the  fault  of  Ulysses  that  is  the  ruin 
of  his  subjects.  This  wise  prince  leaves  untried  no  method  to  make  them 
partakers  of  the  benefit  of  his  return.  Thus  the  poet  in  the  Iliad  says,  ‘  He 
sings  the  anger  of  Achilles,  which  had  caused  the  death  of  so  many  Grecians  f 
and,  on  the  contrary,  in  the  Odyssey  he  tells  his  readers,  ‘  That  the  subjects 
perished  through  their  own  fault.’ 


*  “  Improba  Siren  desidia.”— Horace. 


INTRODUCTORY  REMARKS. 


Vlll 


»  ^  »  *  «  *  »  * 

The  Action  of  the  Odyssey. — His  design  in  the  Odyssey  was  to  describe 
the  return  of  Ulysses  from  the  siege  of  Troy,  and  his  arrival  at  Ithaca.  He 
opens  this  poem  with  the  complaints  of  Minerva  against  Neptune,  who  opposes 
the  return  of  this  hero,  and  against  Calypso,  who  detained  him  in  an  island 
from  Ithaca.  Is  this  a  beginning]  No;  doubtless,  the  reader  would  know 
why  Neptune  is  displeased  with  Ulysses,  and  how  this  prince  came  to  be  with 
Calypso]  He  would  know  how  he  came  from  Troy  thither]  The  poet 
answers  his  demands  out  of  the  mouth  of  Ulysses  himself,  who  relates  these 
things,  and  begins  the  action  by  the  recitals  of  his  travels  from  the  city  of 
Troy.  It  signifies  little  whether  the  beginning  of  the  action  be  the  beginning 
of  the  poem.  The  beginning  of  this  action  is  that  which  happens  to  Ulysses, 
when,  upon  his  leaving  Troy,  he  bends  his  course  for  Ithaca.  The  middle 
comprehends  all  the  misfortunes  he  endured,  and  all  the  disorders  of  his  own 
government.  The  end  is  the  reinstating  of  the  hero  in  the  peaceable  posses¬ 
sion  of  his  kingdom,  where  he  was  acknowledged  by  his  son,  his  wife,  his 
father,  and  several  others.  The  poet  was  sensible  he  should  have  ended 
ill,  had  he  gone  no  farther  than  the  death  of  these  princes,  who  were  the 
rivals  and  enemies  of  Ulysses,  because  the  reader  might  have  looked  for  some 
revenge,  which  the  subjects  of  these  princes  might  have  taken  on  him  who  had 
killed  their  sovereigns:  but  this  danger  over,  and  the  people  vanquished  and 
quieted,  there  was  nothing  more  to  be  expected.  The  poem  and  the  action 
have  all  their  parts,  and  no  more.  But  the  order  of  the  Odyssey  differs  from  that 
of  the  Iliad,  in  that  the  poem  does  not  begin  with  the  beginning  of  the  action. 
******** 

“  Homer  has  ingeniously  begun  his  Odyssey  with  the  transactions  at  Ithaca, 
during  the  absence  of  Ulysses.  If  he  had  begun  with  the  travels  of  his  hero, 
he  would  scarce  have  spoken  of  any  one  else,  and  a  man  might  have  read  a 
great  deal  of  the  poem,  without  conceiving  the  least  idea  of  Telemachus, 
Penelopd,  or  her  suitors,  who  had  so  great  a  share  in  the  action ;  but  in  the 
beginning  he  has  pitched  upon,  besides  these  personages  whom  he  discovers, 
he  represents  Ulysses  in  his  full  length,  and  from  the  very  first  opening  one 
sees  the  interest  which  the  gods  take  in  the  action. 

****  **** 

“  The  first  part  of  the  Iliad  is  the  anger  of  Achilles,  who  is  for  revenging 
himself  upon  Agamemnon  by  means  of  Hector  and  the  Trojans.  The 
intrigue  comprehends  the  three  days'  fight,  which  happened  in  the  absence  of 
Achilles:  and  it  consists  on  one  side  in  the  resistance  of  Agamemnon  and  the 
Grecians ;  and  on  the  other  in  the  revengeful  and  inexorable  humour  of 
Achilles,  which  would  not  suffer  him  to  be  reconciled.  The  loss  of  the 
Grecians,  and  the  despair  of  Agamemnon,  prepare  for  a  solution  by  the 
satisfaction  which  the  incensed  hero  received  from  it.  The  death  of  Patroclus, 
joined  to  the  offers  of  Agamemnon,  which  of  itself  had  proved  ineffectual, 
remove  this  difficulty,  and  make  the  unravelling  of  the  first  part. 

«  This  death  is  likewise  the  beginning  of  the  second  part ;  since  it  puts 
Achilles  upon  the  design  of  revenging  himself  on  Hector.  But  the  design 
of  Hector  is  opposite  to  that  of  Achilles:  this  Trojan  is  valiant,  and  resolved 


INTRODUCTORY  REMARKS. 


IX 


to  stand  on  his  own  defence.  The  valour  and  resolution  of  Hector  are  on  his 
part  the  cause  of  the  intrigue.  All  the  endeavours  Achilles  used  to  meet  with 
Hector,  and  be  the  death  of  him ;  and  the  contrary  endeavours  of  the  Trojan 
to  keep  out  of  his  reach,  and  defend  himself,  are  the  intrigue ;  which  compre¬ 
hends  the  battle  of  the  last  day.  The  unravelling  begins  at  the  death  of 
Hector ;  and  besides  that,  it  contains  the  insulting  of  Achilles  over  his  body, 
the  honours  paid  to  Patroclus,  and  the  entreaties  of  King  Priam.  The  regrets 
of  this  king  and  the  other  Trojans,  in  the  sorrowful  obsequies  they  paid  to 
Hector’s  body,  end  the  unravelling;  they  justify  the  satisfaction  of  Achilles, 
and  demonstrate  his  tranquillity. 

“  The  first  part  of  the  Odyssey  is  the  return  of  Ulysses  into  Ithaca.  Neptune 
opposes  it  by  raising  tempests,  and  this  makes  the  intrigue.  The  unravelhng 
is  the  arrival  of  Ulysses  upon  his  own  island,  where  Neptune  could  offer  him 
no  farther  injury.  The  second  part  is  the  reinstating  this  hero  in  his  own 
government.  The  princes,  that  are  his  rivals,  oppose  him,  and  this  is  a  fresh 
intrigue :  the  solution  of  it  begins  at  their  deaths,  and  is  completed  as  soon  as 
the  Ithacans  were  appeased. 

“  These  two  parts  in  the  Odyssey  have  not  one  common  intrigue.  The 
anger  of  Achilles  forms  both  the  intrigues  in  the  Iliad;  and  it  is  so  far  the 
matter  of  this  epopee,  that  the  very  beginning  and  end  of  this  poem  depends 
on  the  beginning  and  end  of  this  anger.  But  let  the  desire  Achilles  had 
to  revenge  himself,  and  the  desire  Ulysses  had  to  return  to  his  own  country, 
be  never  so  near  allied,  yet  we  cannot  place  them  under  one  and  the  same 
notion :  for  that  desire  of  Ulysses  is  not  a  passion  that  begins  and  ends  in  the 
poem  with  the  action :  it  is  a  natural  habit :  nor  does  he  propose  it  for  his 
subject,  as  he  does  the  anger  of  Achilles. 

“  What  is  more  usual  and  natural  to  warriors  than  anger,  heat,  passion,  and 
impatience  of  bearing  the  least  affront  or  disrespect?  This  is  what  forms  the 
intrigue  of  the  Iliad;  and  every  thing  we  read  there  is  nothing  else  but  the 
effect  of  this  humour  and  these  passions. 

“  What  more  natural  and  usual  obstacle  to  those  who  take  voyages,  than  the 
sea,  the  winds,  and  the  storms?  Homer  makes  this  the  intrigue  of  the  first 
part  of  the  Odyssey :  and  for  the  second,  he  makes  use  of  almost  the  infallible 
effect  of  the  long  absence  of  a  master,  whose  return  is  quite  despaired  of,  viz : 
the  insolence  of  his  servants  and  neighbours,  the  danger  of  his  son  and  wife, 
and  the  sequestration  of  his  estate.  Besides,  an  absence  of  almost  twenty 
years,  and  the  insupportable  fatigues,  joined  to  the  age  of  which  Ulysses  then 
was,  might  induce  him  to  believe  that  he  should  not  be  owned  by  those  who 
thought  him  dead,  and  whose  interest  it  was  to  have  him  really  so.  Therefore, 
if  he  had  presently  declared  who  he  was,  and  had  called  himself  Ulysses,  they 
would  have  easily  destroyed  him  as  an  impostor,  before  he  had  an  opportunity 
to  make  himself  known. 

“  There  could  be  nothing  more  natural  nor  more  necessary  than  this  ingenious 
disguise,  to  which  the  advantages  Iris  enemies  had  taken  of  his  absence  had 
reduced  him,  and  to  which  his  long  misfortunes  had  inured  him.  This  allowed 
him  an  opportunity,  without  hazarding  any  thing,  of  taking  the  best  measures 
he  could,  against  those  persons  who  could  not  so  much  as  mistrust  any  harm 
1* 


X 


INTRODUCTORY  REMARKS. 


from  him.  This  way  was  afforded  him,  by  the  very  nature  of  his  action,  to 
execute  his  designs,  and  overcome  the  obstacles  it  cast  before  him.  And  it  is 
this  contest  between  the  prudence  and  the  dissimulation  of  a  single  man  on  one 
hand,  and  the  ungovernable  insolence  of  so  many  rivals  on  the  other,  which 
constitutes  the  intrigue  of  the  second  part  of  the  Odyssey. 

“Of  the  end  or  unravelling  of  the  Action. — If  the  plot  or  intrigue 
must  be  natural,  and  such  as  springs  from  the  very  subject,  then  the  winding- 
up  of  the  plot,  by  a  more  sure  claim,  must  have  this  qualification,  and  be  a 
probable  consequence  of  all  that  went  before.  As  this  is  what  the  readeis 
regard  more  than  the  rest,  so  should  the  person  be  more  exact  in  it.  This  is 
the  end  of  the  poem,  and  the  last  impression  that  is  to  be  stamped  upon  them. 

“  We  shall  find  this  in  the  Odyssey.  Ulysses  by  a  tempest  is  cast  upon  the 
island  of  the  Phasacians,  to  whom  he  discovers  himself,  and  desires  they 
would  favour  his  return  to  his  own  country,  which  was  not  very  far  distant. 
One  cannot  see  why  the  king  of  this  island  should  refuse  such  a  reasonable 
request,  to  a  hero  whom  he  seemed  to  have  in  great  esteem.  The  Phoeacians 
indeed  had  heard  him  tell  the  story  of  his  adventures ;  and  in  this  fabulous 
recital  consisted  all  the  advantage  that  he  could  derive  from  his  presence ;  for 
the  art  of  war  which  they  admired  in  him,  his  undauntedness  under  dangers, 
his  indefetigable  patience,  and  other  virtues,  were  such  as  these  islanders  were 
not  used  to.  All  their  talent  lay  in  singing  and  dancing,  and  whatsoever  was 
charming  in  a  quiet  life.  And  here  we  see  how  dexterously  Homer  prepares 
the  incidents  he  makes  use  of.  These  people  could  do  no  less,  for  the  account 
with  which  Ulysses  had  so  much  entertained  them,  than  afford  him  a  ship  and 
a  safe  convoy,  which  was  of  little  expense  or  trouble  to  them. 

“  When  he  arrived,  his  long  absence,  and  the  travels  which  had  disfigured 
him,  made  him  altogether  unknown ;  and  the  dangers  he  would  have  incurred, 
had  he  discovered  himself  too  soon,  forced  him  to  a  disguise:  lastly,  This 
disguise  gave  him  an  opportunity  of  surprising  those  young  suitors  who,  for 
several  years  together,  had  been  accustomed  to  do  nothing  but  sleep  well 
and  fare  daintily. 

“  It  was  from  these  examples  that  Aristotle  drew  this  rule,  that  ‘  Whatever 
concludes  the  poem,  should  so  spring  from  the  very  constitution  of  the  fable, 
as  if  it  were  a  necessary,  or  at  least  a  probable,  consequence.’” 


THE 


ODYSSEY  OF  HOMER. 


(i 

BOOK  I. 


Minerva’s  Descent  to  Ithaca;  Interview  with  Telemachus. 

Argument. — The  poem  opens  within  forty-eig’ht  days  of  the  arrival  of 
Ulysses  in  his  dominions.  He  had  now  remained  seven  years  in  the 
island  of  Calypso,  when  the  g’ods,  assembled  in  council,  proposed  the 
method  of  his  departure  from  thence,  and  his  return  to  his  native  country. 
For  this  purpose,  it  is  concluded  to  send  Mercury  to  Calypso,  and  Pallas 
immediately  descends  to  Ithaca.  She  holds  a  conference  with  Telemachus, 
in  the  shape  of  Mentes,  king'  of  the  Taphians ;  in  which  she  advises  him 
to  take  a  journey  in  quest  of  his  father  Ulysses,  to  Pylos  and  Sparta,  where 
Nestor  and  Menelaiis  yet  reig-ned ;  then,  after  having"  visibly  displayed  her 
divinity,  disappears.  The  suitors  of  Penelop6  make  g-reat  entertainments, 
and  riot  in  her  palace  till  night,  Phemius  sings  to  them  the  return  of  the 
Grecians,  till  Penelop€  puts  a  stop  to  the  song.  Some  words  arise  between 
the  suitors  and  Telemachus,  who  summons  the  council  to  meet  the  day 
following. 

The  man,  for  wisdom’s  various  arts  renown’d, 

Long  exercised  in  woes,  oh  Muse !  resound. 

Who,  when  his  arms  had  wrought  the  destined  fall 
Of  sacred  Troy,  and  razed  her  heaven-built  wall. 
Wandering  from  clime  to  clime,  observant  stray’d. 

Their  manners  noted,  and  their  states  survey’d. 

On  stormy  seas  unnumber’d  toils  he  bore. 

Safe  with  his  friends  to  gain  his  natal  shore. 

Vain  toils!  their  impious  folly  dared  to  prey 
On  herds  devoted  to  the  god  of  day;  10 

The  god,  vindictive,  doom’d  them  never  more 
(Ah,  men  unbless’d !)  to  touch  that  natal  shore. 

Oh,  snatch  some  portion  of  these  acts  from  fate. 

Celestial  Muse  I  and  to  our  world  relate. 


12 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  I. 


Now  at  their  native  realms  the  Greeks  arrived: 

All  who  the  wars  of  ten  long  years  survived, 

And  ’scaped  the  perils  of  the  gulfy  main. 

Ulysses,  sole  of  all  the  victor  train. 

An  exile  from  his  dear  paternal  coast. 

Deplored  his  absent  queen  and  empire  lost.  20 

Calypso  in  her  caves  constrain’d  his  stay. 

With  sweet,  reluctant,  amorous  delay: 

In  vain;  for  now  the  circling  years  disclose 
The  day  predestined  to  reward  his  woes. 

At  length  his  Ithaca  is  given  by  fate. 

Where  yet  new  labours  his  arrival  wait ; 

At  length  their  rage  the  hostile  powers  restrain. 

All  but  the  ruthless  monarch  of  the  main. 

But  now  the  god,  remote,  a  heavenly  guest, 

In  Ethiopia  graced  the  genial  feast,  30 

(A  race  divided,  whom  with  sloping  rays 
The  rising  and  descending  sun  surveys ;) 

There  on  the  world’s  extremest  verge,  revered 
With  hecatombs  and  prayer  in  pomp  preferr’d. 

Distant  he  lay:  while  in  the  bright  abodes 
Of  high  Olympus,  Jove  convened  the  gods: 

Th’  assembly  thus  the  sire  supreme  address’d, 
jEgysthus’  fate  revolving  in  his  breast. 

Whom  young  Orestes  to  the  dreary  coast 
Of  Pluto  sent,  a  blood-polluted  ghost.  40 

“Perverse  mankind!  whose  wills,  created  free. 

Charge  all  their  woes  on  absolute  decree ; 

All  to  the  dooming  gods  their  guilt  translate. 

And  follies  are  miscall’d  the  crimes  of  fate. 

When  to  his  lust  ^gysthus  gave  the  rein, 

Did  fate,  or  we,  th’  adulterous  act  constrain  ? 

Did  fate,  or  we,  when  great  Atrides  died. 

Urge  the  bold  traitor  to  the  regicide? 

Hermes  I  sent,  while  yet  his  soul  remain’d 
Sincere  from  royal  blood,  and  faith  profaned,  50 

To  warn  the  wretch,  that  young  Orestes,  grown 
To  manly  years,  should  reassert  the  throne. 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  I. 


13 


Yet,  impotent  of  mind,  and  uncontrol’d. 

He  plunged  into  the  gulf  which  Heaven  foretold.” 

Here  paused  the  god ;  and  pensive  thus  replies 
Minerva,  graceful  with  her  azure  eyes: 

“O  thou!  from  whom  the  whole  creation  springs. 

The  source  of  power  on  earth  derived  to  kings! 

His  death  was  equal  to  the  direful  deed ; 

So  may  the  man  of  blood  be  doom’d  to  bleed :  60 

But  grief  and  rage  alternate  wound  my  breast 
For  brave  Ulysses,  still  by  fate  oppress’d. 

Amidst  an  isle,  around  whose  rocky  shore 
The  forests  murmur,  and  the  surges  roar. 

The  blameless  hero  from  his  wished-for  home 
A  goddess  guards  in  her  enchanted  dome: 

(Atlas  her  sire,  to  whose  far-piercing  eye 
The  wonders  of  the  deep  expanded  lie; 

Th’  eternal  columns  which  on  earth  he  rears 

End  in  the  starry  vault,  and  prop  the  spheres.)  70 

By  his  fair  daughter  is  the  chief  confined. 

Who  soothes  to  dear  delight  his  anxious  mind: 
Successless  all  her  soft  caresses  prove. 

To  banish  from  his  breast  his  country’s  love; 

To  see  the  smoke  from  his  loved  palace  rise. 

While  the  dear  isle  in  distant  prospect  lies. 

With  what  contentment  could  he  close  his  eyes? 

And  will  Omnipotence  neglect  to  save 
The  suffering  virtue  of  the  wise  and  brave? 

Must  he,  whose  altars  on  the  Phrygian  shore  80 

With  frequent  rites,  and  pure,  avow’d  thy  power. 

Be  doom’d  the  worst  of  human  ills  to  prove, 

Unbless’d,  abandon’d  to  the  wrath  of  Jove?” 

'^‘Daughter !  what  words  have  pass’d  thy  lips  unweigh’d  ?” 
Replied  the  Thunderer,  to  the  martial  maid : 

“Deem  not  unjustly  by  my  doom  oppress’d 
Of  human  race  the  wisest  and  the  best. 

Neptune,  by  prayer  repentant  rarely  won. 

Afflicts  the  chief,  t’  avenge  his  giant  son. 

Whose  visual  orb  Ulysses  robb’d  of  light;  90 

Great  Polypheme,  of  more  than  mortal  might! 


14  THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  I. 

Him  young  Thoosa  bore  (the  bright  increase 
Of  Phorcys,  dreaded  in  the  sounds  and  seas) : 

Whom  Neptune  eyed  with  bloom  of  beauty  bless’d, 

And  in  his  cave  the  yielding  nymph  compress’d. 

For  this,  the  god  constrains  the  Greek  to  roam, 

A  hopeless  exile  from  his  native  home. 

From  death  alone  exempt.  But  cease  to  mourn; 

Let  all  combine  t’  achieve  his  wish’d  return: 

Neptune  atoned,  his  wrath  shall  now  refrain,  100 

Or  thwart  the  synod  of  the  gods  in  vain.” 

“Father  and  king  adored!”  Minerva  cried, 

“Since  all  who  in  th^  Olympian  bower  reside. 

Now  make  the  wandering  Greek  their  public  care. 

Let  Hermes  to  th’  Atlantic  isle*  repair; 

Bid  him,  arrived  in  bright  Calypso’s  court. 

The  sanction  of  th’  assembled  powers  report : 

That  wise  Ulysses  to  his  native  land 
Must  speed,  obedient  to  their  high  command. 

Meantime,  Telemachus,  the  blooming  heir  110 

Of  sea-girt  Ithaca,  demands  my  care: 

’Tis  mine,  to  form  his  green,  unpractised  years. 

In  sage  debates ;  surrounded  with  his  peers. 

To  save  the  state,  and  timely  to  restrain 
The  bold  intrusion  of  the  suitor-train, 

Who  crowd  his  palace,  and  with  lawless  power 
His  herds  and  flocks  in  feastful  rites  devour. 

To  distant  Sparta,  and  the  spacious  waste 
Of  sandy  Pyle,  the  royal  youth  shall  haste. 

There,  warm  with  filial  love,  the  cause  inquire,  120 

That  from  his  realm  retards  his  godlike  sire: 

Delivering  early  to  the  voice  of  fame 
The  promise  of  a  great,  immortal  name.” 

She  said:  the  sandals  of  celestial  mould. 

Fledged  with  ambrosial  plumes,  and  rich  with  gold. 
Surround  her  feet:  with  these  sublime  she  sails 
Th’  a^Hal  space,  and  mounts  the  winged  gales: 


*  Ogygia. 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  I. 


15 


O’er  earth  and  ocean  wide  prepared  to  soar, 

Her  dreaded  arm  a  beamy  javelin  bore, 

Ponderous  and  vast;  which,  when  her  fury  burns,  130 
Proud  tyrants  humbles,  and  whole  hosts  o’erturns. 

From  high  Olympus  prone  her  flight  she  bends. 

And  in  the  realm  of  Ithaca  descends. 

Her  lineaments  divine,  the  grave  disguise 
Of  Mentes’  form  conceabd  from  human  eyes 
(Mentes,  the  monarch  of  the  Taphian  land) : 

A  glittering  spear  waved  awful  in  her  hand. 

There  in  the  portal  placed,  the  heaven-born  maid 
Enormous  riot  and  misrule  survey’d. 

On  hides  of  beeves,  before  the  palace-gate,  140 

(Sad  spoils  of  luxury,)  the  suitors  sate. 

With  rival  art,  and  ardour  in  their  mien. 

At  chess  they  vie,  to  captivate  the  queen ; 

Divining  of  their  loves.  Attending  nigh, 

A  menial  train  the  flowing  bowl  supply: 

Others,  apart,  the  spacious  hall  prepare. 

And  form  the  costly  feast  with  busy  care. 

There  young  Telemachus,  his  bloomy  face 

Glowing  celestial  sweet,  with  godlike  grace 

Amid  the  circle  shines :  but  hope  and  fear —  1 50 

Painful  vicissitude ! — his  bosom  tear. 

Now,  imaged  in  his  mind,  he  sees  restored 
In  peace  and  joy  the  people’s  rightful  lord ; 

The  proud  oppressors  fly  the  vengeful  sword. 

While  his  fond  soul  these  fancied  triumphs  swell’d, 

The  stranger-guest  the  royal  youth  beheld: 

Grieved  that  a  visitant  so  long  should  wait 
Unmark’d,  unhonour’d,  at  a  monarch’s  gate. 

Instant  he  flew  with  hospitable  haste. 

And  the  new  friend  with  courteous  air  embraced.  160 
“  Stranger !  whoe’er  thou  art,  securely  rest. 

Affianced  in  my  faith,  a  ready  guest: 

Approach  the  dome,  the  social  banquet  share, 

And  then  the  purpose  of  thy  soul  declare.” 

Thus  affable  and  mild,  the  prince  precedes. 

And  to  the  dome  th’  unknown  celestial  leads. 


16 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  I. 


The  spear,  receiving  from  her  hand,  he  placed 
Against  a  column,  fair  with  sculpture  graced ; 

Where  seemly  ranged  in  peaceful  order  stood 
Ulysses’  arms,  now  long  disused  to  blood.  170 

He  led  the  goddess  to  the  sovereign  seat. 

Her  feet  supported  with  a  stool  of  state 
(A  purple  carpet  spread  the  pavement  wide) ; 

Then  drew  his  seat,  familiar,  to  her  side; 

Far  from  the  suitor- train,  a  brutal  crowd, 

With  insolence,  and  wine,  elate  and  loud : 

Where  the  free  guest,  unnoted,  might  relate. 

If,  haply,  conscious  of  his  father’s  fate. 

The  golden  ewer  a  maid  obsequious  brings, 

Replenish’d  from  the  cool,  translucent  springs;  180 

With  copious  water  the  bright  vase  supplies 
A  silver  laver,  of  capacious  size : 

They  wash.  The  tables  in  fair  order  spread. 

They  heap  the  glittering  canisters  with  bread: 

Viands  of  various  kinds  allure  the  taste, 

Of  choicest  sort  and  savour,  rich  repast! 

Delicious  wines  th’  attending  herald  brought ; 

The  gold  gave  lustre  to  the  purple  draught. 

Lured  with  the  vapour  of  the  fragrant  feast. 

In  rush’d  the  suitors  with  voracious  haste:  190 

Marshal’d  in  order  due,  to  each  a  sewer 
Presents,  to  bathe  his  hands,  a  radiant  ewer. 

Luxurious  then  they  feast.  Observant  round 
Gay  stripling  youths  the  brimming  goblets  crown’d. 

The  rage  of  hunger  quell’d,  they  all  advance, 

And  form  to  measured  airs  the  mazy  dance: 

To  Phemius  was  consign’d  the  chorded  lyre. 

Whose  hand  reluctant  touch’d  the  warbling  wire : 
Phemius,  whose  voice  divine  could  sweetest  sing 
High  strains,  responsive  to  the  vocal  string.  200 

Meanwhile,  in  whispers  to  his  heavenly  guest, 

His  indignation  thus  the  prince  express’d : 

“Indulge  my  rising  grief,  while  these,  my  friend. 

With  song  and  dance  the  pompous  revel  end. 


I 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  I.  17 

Light  is  the  dance,  and  doubly  sweet  the  lays, 

When  for  the  dear  delight  another  pays. 

His  treasured  stores  these  cormorants  consume. 

Whose  bones,  defrauded  of  a  regal  tomb 
And  common  turf,  lie  naked  on  the  plain. 

Or  doom’d  to  welter  in  the  whelming  main  210 

l^hould  he  return,  that  troop,  so  blithe  and  bold. 

With  purple  robes  inwrought,  and  stiff  with  gold. 
Precipitant  in  fear  would  wing  their  flight. 

And  curse  their  cumbrous  pride’s  unwieldy  weight. 

But,  ah!  I  dream:  th’  appointed  hour  is  fled; 

And  hope,  too  long  with  vain  delusion  fed. 

Deaf  to  the  rumour  of  fallacious  fame. 

Gives  to  the  roll  of  death  his  glorious  name  1 

With  venial  freedom  let  me  now  demand 

Thy  name,  thy  lineage,  and  paternal  land ;  220 

Sincere,  from  whence  began  thy  course,  recite. 

And  to  what  ship  I  owe  the  friendly  freight? 

Now  first  to  me  this  visit  dost  thou  deign. 

Or  number’d  in  my  father’s  social  train? 

All  who  deserved  his  choice  he  made  his  own. 

And,  curious  much  to  know,  he  far  was  known.” 

“My  birth  I  boast,”  the  blue-eyed  virgin  cries, 

“From  great  Anchialus,  renown’d  and  wise: 

Mentes  my  name;  I  rule  the  Taphian  race. 

Whose  bounds  the  deep  circumfluent  waves  embrace :  230 
A  duteous  people,  and  industrious  isle. 

To  naval  arts  inured,  and  stormy  toil. 

Freighted  with  iron  from  my  native  land, 

I  steer  my  voyage  to  the  Brutian  strand; 

To  gain  by  commerce,  for  the  labour’d  mass, 

A  just  proportion  of  refulgent  brass. 

Far  from  your  capital  my  ship  resides 
At  Reithrus,  and  secure  at  anchor  rides ; 

Where  waving  groves  on  airy  Neion  grow. 

Supremely  tall,  and  shade  the  deeps  below.  240 

TJience  to  revisit  your  imperial  dome. 

An  old  hereditary  guest  I  come: 

B 


18 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  I. 


Your  father’s  friend.  Laertes  can  relate 
Our  faith  unspotted,  and  its  early  date ; 

Who,  press’d  with  heart-corroding  grief  and  years, 

To  the  gay  court  a  rural  shade  prefers. 

Where,  sole  of  all  his  train,  a  matron  sage 
Supports  with  homely  food  his  drooping  age. 

With  feeble  steps  from  marshalling  his  vines. 

Returning  sad,  when  toilsome  day  declines.  250 

With  friendly  speed,  induced  by  erring  fame, 

To  hail  Ulysses’  safe  return  I  came; 

But  still  the  frown  of  some  celestial  power 
With  envious  joy  retards  the  blissful  hour. 

Let  not  your  soul  be  sunk  in  sad  despair:  ' 

He  lives,  he  breathes  this  heavenly  vital  air, 

Among  a  savage  race,  whose  shelfy  bounds 
With  ceaseless  roar  the  foaming  deep  surrounds. 

The  thoughts  which  roll  within  my  ravish’d  breast. 

To  me,  no  seer,  th’  inspiring  gods  suggest;  260 

Nor  skill’d,  nor  studious,  with  prophetic  eye 
To  judge  the  winged  omens  of  the  sky. 

Yet  hear  this  certain  speech,  nor  deem  it  vain: 

Though  adamantine  bonds  the  chief  restrain 
The  dire  restraint  his  wisdom  will  defeat. 

And  soon  restore  him  to  his  regal  seat. 

But,  generous  youth !  sincere  and  free  declare, 

Are  you,  of  manly  growth,  his  royal  heir? 

For  sure  Ulysses  in  your  look  appears. 

The  same  his  features,  if  the  same  his  years.  270 

Such  was  the  face  on  which  I  dwelt  with  joy. 

Ere  Greece  assembled  stemm’d  the  tides  to  Troy; 

But,  parting  then  for  that  detested  shore. 

Our  eyes,  unhappy !  never  greeted  more.” 

“To  prove  a  genuine  birth,”  the  prince  replies, 

“On  female  truth  assenting  faith  relies; 

Thus  manifest  of  right,  I  build  my  claim 
Sure  founded  on  a  fair  maternal  fame, 

Ulysses’  son:'  but  happier  he,  whom  fate 

Hath  placed  beneath  the  storms  which  toss  the  great !  280 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  I. 


19 


Happier  the  son,  whose  hoary  sire  is  bless’d 
With  humble  affluence,  and  domestic  rest ! 

Happier  than  I,  to  future  empire  born. 

But  doom’d  a  father’s  wretched  fate  to  mourn!” 

To  whom,  with  aspect  mild,  the  guest  divine: 

“Oh  true  descendant  of  a  sceptred  line! 

The  gods  a  glorious  fate,  from  anguish  free. 

To  chaste  Penelope’s  increase  decree. 

But  say,  yon  joyful  troop,  so  gaily  dress’d. 

Is  this  a  bridal  or  a  friendly  feast?  290 

Or  from  their  deeds  I  inghtlier  may  divine. 

Unseemly  flown  with  insolence  and  wine; 

Unwelcome  revellers,  whose  lawless  joy 
Pains  the  sage  ear,  and  hurts  the  sober  eye?” 

“Magnificence  of  old,”  the  prince  replied, 

“Beneath  our  roof  with  virtue  could  reside; 

Unblamed  abundance  crown’d  the  royal  board. 

What  time  this  dome  revered  her  prudent  lord ; 

Who  now  (so  Heaven  decrees)  is  doom’d  to  mourn. 

Bitter  constraint!  erroneous  and  forlorn.  900 

Better  the  chief  on  Ilion’s  hostile  plain 

Had  fallen,  surrounded  with  his  warlike  train; 

Or  safe  return’d,  the  race  of  glory  pass’d, 

New  to  his  friends’  embrace,  had  breathed  his  last! 

Then  grateful  Greece  with  streaming  eyes  would  raise 
Historic  marbles  to  record  his  praise ; 

His  praise,  eternal  on  the  faithful  stone. 

Had  with  transmissive  honour  graced  his  son. 

Now,  snatched  by  harpies  to  the  dreary  coast. 

Sunk  is  the  hero,  and  his  glory  lost:  910 

Vanish’d  at  once!  unheard  of,  and  unknown! 

And  I  his  heir  in  misery  alone. 

Nor  for  a  dear,  lost  father  only  flow 
The  filial  tears,  but  wo  succeeds  to  wo: 

To  tempt  the  spouseless  queen  with  amorous  wiles. 

Resort  the  nobles  from  the  neighbouring  isles ; 

From  Samos,  circled  with  th’  Ionian  main, 

Dulichium,  and  Zacynthus’  sylvan  reign: 


20 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  I. 


Ev’n  with  presumptuous  hope  her  bed  t’  ascend, . 

The  lords  of  Ithaca  their  right  pretend.  320 

She  seems  attentive  to  their  pleaded  vows, 

Her  heart  detesting  what  her  ear  allows. 

They,  vain  expectants  of  the  bridal-hour. 

My  stores  in  riotous  expense  devour; 

In  feast  and  dance  the  mirthful  months  employ. 

And  meditate  my  doom,  to  crown  their  joy.’’ 

With  tender  pity  touch’d,  the  goddess  cried: 

“Soon  may  kind  Heaven  a  sure  relief  provide. 

Soon  may  your  sire  discharge  the  vengeance  due. 

And  all  your  wrongs  the  proud  oppressors  rue.  330 

Oh!  in  that  portal  should  the  chief  appear. 

Each  hand  tremendous  with  a  brazen  spear. 

In  radiant  panoply  his  limbs  incased 
(For  so  of  old  my  father’s  court  he  graced. 

When  social  mirth  unbent  his  serious  soul. 

O’er  the  full  banquet,  and  the  sprightly  bowl): 

He  then  from  Ephyr4,  the  fair  domain 
Of  Ilus,  sprung  from  Jason’s  royal  strain, 

Measured  a  length  of  seas,  a  toilsome  length,  in  vain. 

For,  voyaging  to  learn  the  direful  art  340 

To  taint  with  deadly  drugs  the  barbed  dart; 

Observant  of  the  gods,  and  sternly  just, 

Ilus  refused  t’  impart  the  baneful  trust : 

With  friendlier  zeal  my  father’s  soul  was  fired. 

The  drugs  he  knew,  and  gave  the  boon  desired. 

Appear’d  he  now  with  such  heroic  port. 

As  then  conspicuous  at  the  Taphian  court; 

Soon  should  yon  boasters  cease  their  haughty  strife. 

Or  each  atone  his  guilty  love  with  life. 

But  of  his  wish’d  return  the  care  resign ;  350 

Be  future  vengeance  to  the  powers  divine. 

My  sentence  hear:  with  stern  distaste  avow’d. 

To  their  own  districts  drive  the  suitor-crowd: 

When  next  the  morning  warms  the  purple  east. 

Convoke  the  peerage,  and  the  gods  attest; 

The  sorrows  of  your  inmost  soul  relate ; 

And  form  sure  plans  to  save  the  sinking  state. 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  I. 

Should  second  love  a  pleasing  flame  inspire, 

And  the  chaste  queen  connubial  rites  require; 

Dismiss’d  with  honour,  let  her  hence  repair 
To  great  Icarius,  whose  paternal  care 
Will  guide  her  passion,  and  reward  her  choice 
With  wealthy  dower,  and  bridal-gifts  of  price. 

Then  let  this  dictate  of  my  love  prevail : 

Instant,  to  foreign  realms  prepare  to  sail. 

To  learn  your  father’s  fortunes:  fame  may  prove. 

Or  omen’d  voice  (the  messenger  of  Jove), 

Propitious  to  the  search.  Direct  you  toil 
Through  the  wide  ocean  first  to  sandy  Pyle ; 

Of  Nestor,  hoary  sage,  his  doom  demand:  370 

Then  speed  your  voyage  to  the  Spartan  strand; 

For  young  Atrides  to  th’  Achaian  coast 
Arrived  the  last  of  all  the  victor  host. 

If  yet  Ulysses  views  the  light,  forbear, 

Till  the  fleet  hours  restore  the  circling  year. 

But  if  his  soul  hath  wing’d  the  destined  flight. 

Inhabitant  of  deep,  disastrous  night ; 

Homeward  with  pious  speed  repass  the  main. 

To  the  pale  shade  funereal  rites  ordain. 

Plant  the  fair  column  o’er  the  vacant  grave,  380 

A  hero’s  honours  let  the  hero  have. 

With  decent  grief  the  royal  dead  deplored. 

For  the  chaste  queen  select  an  equal  lord. 

Then  let  revenge  your  daring  mind  employ. 

By  fraud  or  force  the  suitor-train  destroy. 

And,  starting  into  manhood,  scorn  the  boy. 

Hast  thou  not  heard  how  young  Orestes,  fired 
With  great  revenge,  immortal  praise  acquired? 

His  virgin-sword  iEgysthus’  veins  imbrued ; 

The  murderer  fell,  and  blood  atoned  for  blood.  390 

Oh,  greatly  bless’d  with  every  blooming  grace ! 

With  equal  steps  the  paths  of  glory  trace: 

J oin  to  that  royal  youth’s  your  rival  name, 

And  shine  eternal  in  the  sphere  of  fame. — 

But  my  associates  now  my  stay  deplore. 

Impatient  on  the  hoarse-resounding  shore 


21 


360 


22 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  I. 


Thou,  heedful  of  advice,  secure  proceed; 

My  praise  the  precept  is,  be  thine  the  deed.” 

“The  counsel  of  my  friend,”  the  youth  rejoined, 
“Imprints  conviction  on  my  grateful  mind.  400 

So  fathers  speak  (persuasive  speech  and  mild) 

Their  sage  experience  to  the  favourite  child. 

But,  since  to  part,  for  s’weet  refection  due. 

The  genial  viands  let  my  train  renew ; 

And  the  rich  pledge  of  plighted  faith  receive. 

Worthy  the  heir  of  Ithaca  to  give.” 

“Defer  the  promised  boon,”  the  goddess  cries, 

Celestial  azure  brightening  in  her  eyes, 

“And  let  me  now  regain  the  Reithrian  port: 

From  Temes4  return’d,  your  royal  court  410 

I  shall  revisit ;  and  that  pledge  receive ; 

And  gifts,  memorial  of  our  friendship,  leave.” 

Abrupt,  with  eagle-speed  she  cut  the  sky; 

Instant  invisible  to  mortal  eye. 

Then  first  he  recognised  th’  ethereal  guest; 

Wonder  and  joy  alternate  fire  his  breast: 

Heroic  thoughts,  infused,  his  heart  dilate; 

Revolving  much  his  father’s  doubtful  fate. 

At  length,  composed,  he  joined  the  suitor-throng ; 

Hush’d  in  attention  to  the  warbled  song.  420 

His  tender  theme  the  charming  lyrist  chose, 

Minerva’s  anger,  and  the  direful  woes 
Which,  voyaging  from  Troy,  the  victors  bore. 

While  storms  vindictive  intercept  the  shore. 

The  shrilling  airs  the  vaulted  roof  rebounds. 

Reflecting  to  the  queen  the  silver  sounds. 

With  grief  renew’d  the  weeping  fair  descends; 

Their  sovereign’s  step  a  virgin  train  attends ; 

A  veil,  of  richest  texture  wrought,  she  wears. 

And  silent  to  the  joyous  hall  repairs.  430 

There  from  the  portal,  with  her  mild  command, 

Thus  gently  checks  the  minstrel’s  tuneful  hand: 

“Phemius!  let  acts  of  gods,  and  heroes  old, 

What  ancient  bards  in  hall  and  bower  have  told. 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  I. 


23 


Attemper’d  to  the  lyre,  your  voice  employ : 

Such  the  pleased  ear  will  drink  with  silent  joy. 

But,  oh!  forbear  that  dear,  disastrous  name. 

To  sorrow  sacred,  and  secure  of  fame: 

My  bleeding  bosom  sickens  at  the  sound. 

And  every  piercing  note  inflicts  a  wound.”  440 

“Why,  dearest  object  of  my  duteous  love,” 

Replied  the  prince,  “will  you  the  bard  reprove? 

Oft,  Jove’s  ethereal  rays  (resistless  fire) 

The  chanter’s  soul  and  raptured  song  inspire; 

Instinct  divine  I  nor  blame  severe  his  choice. 

Warbling  the  Grecian  woes  with  harp  and  voice: 

For  novel  lays  attract  our  ravish’d  ears; 

But  old,  the  mind  with  inattention  hears; 

Patient  permit  the  sadly- pleasing  strain; 

Familiar  now  with  grief,  your  tears  refrain,  450 

And  in  the  public  wo  forget  your  own; 

You  weep  not  for  a  perish’d  lord  alone. 

What  Greeks  now  wandering  in  the  Stygian  gloom, 

With  your  Ulysses  shared  an  equal  doom  I 
Your  widow’d  hours,  apart,  with  female  toil 
And  various  labours  of  the  loom,  beguile: 

There  rule,  from  palace-cares  remote  and  free ; 

That  care  to  man  belongs,  and 'most  to  me.” 

Mature  beyond  his  years,  the  queen  admires 
His  sage  reply,  and  with  her  train  retires.  460 

Then  swelling  sorrows  burst  their  former  bounds. 

With  echoing  grief  afresh  the  dome  resounds; 

Till  Pallas,  piteous  of  her  plaintive  cries. 

In  slumber  closed  her  silver-streaming  eyes. 

Meantime,  rekindled  at  the  royal  charms. 

Tumultuous  love  each  beating  bosom  warms; 

Intemperate  rage  a  wordy  war  began; 

But  bold  Telemachus  assumed  the  man. 

“Instant,”  he  cried,  “your  female  discord  end. 

Ye  deedless  boasters!  and  the  song  attend:  470 

Obey  that  sweet  compulsion,  nor  profane 
With  dissonance  the  smooth  melodious  strain. 


24 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  I. 


Pacific  now  prolong  the  jovial  feast; 

But  when  the  dawn  reveals  the  rosy  east, 

I,  to  the  peers  assembled,  shall  propose 
The  firm  resolve,  I  here  in  few  disclose; 

No  longer  live  the  cankers  of  my  court; 

All  to  your  several  states  with  speed  resort; 

Waste  in  wild  riot  what  your  land  allows, 

There  ply  the  early  feast,  and  late  carouse.  480 

But  if,  to  honour  lost,  ’tis  still  decreed 

For  you  my  bowl  shall  flow,  my  flock  shall  bleed. 

Judge  and  revenge  my  right,  impartial  Jove! — 

By  him,  and  all  th’  immortal  thrones  above, 

(A  sacred  oath,)  each  proud  oppressor,  slain. 

Shall  with  inglorious  gore  this  marble  stain.” 

Awed  by  the  prince,  thus  haughty,  bold,  and  young. 
Rage  gnaw’d  the  lip,  and  wonder  chain’d  the  tongue. 
Silence  at  length  the  gay  Antinoiis  broke. 

Constrain’d  a  smile,  and  thus  ambiguous  spoke:  490 

“What  god  to  your  untutor’d  youth  affords 
This  headlong  torrent  of  amazing  words? 

May  Jove  delay  thy  reign,  and  cumber  late 
So  bright  a  genius  with  the  toils  of  state.” 

“Those  toils”  (Telemachus  serene  replies) 

“Have  charms,  with  all  their  weight,  t’  allure  the  wise. 
Fast  by  the  throne  obsequious  fame  resides. 

And  wealth  incessant  rolls  her  golden  tides. 

Nor  let  Antinoiis  rage,  if  strong  desire 

Of  wealth  and  fame  a  youthful  bosom  fire;  500 

Elect  by  Jove  his  delegate  of  sway. 

With  joyous  pride  the  summons  I’d  obey. 

Whene’er  Ulysses  roams  the  realm  of  night. 

Should  factious  power  dispute  my  lineal  right. 

Some  other  Greeks  a  fairer  claim  may  plead ; 

To  your  pretence  their  title  would  precede. 

At  least,  the  sceptre  lost,  I  still  should  reign 
Sole  o’er  my  vassals,  and  domestic  train.” 

To  this  Eurymachus:  “To  heaven  alone 
Refer  the  choice  to  fill  the  vacant  throne.  510 


25 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  I. 

Your  patrimonial  stores  in  peace  possess; 

Undoubted,  all  your  filial  claim  confess: 

Youi  piivate  right  should  impious  power  invade, 

The  peers  of  Ithaca  would  arm  in  aid. 

But  say,  that  stranger-guest,  who  late  withdrew, 
What  and  from  whence?  his  name  and  lineage  show. 
His  grave  demeanour  and  majestic  grace 
Speak  him  descended  of  no  vulgar  race  : 

Did  he  some  loan  of  ancient  right  require. 

Or  came  fore-runner  of  your  sceptred  sire?’' 

“Oh,  son  of  Polybus!”  the  prince  replies, 

“No  more  my  sire  will  glad  these  longing  eyes: 

The  queen’s  fond  hope  inventive  rumour  cheers, 

Or  vain  diviners’  dreams  divert  her  fears. 

That  stranger-guest  the  Taphian  realm  obeys, 

A  realm  defended  with  encircling  seas. 

Mentes,  an  ever-honour’d  name,  of  old 
High  in  Ulysses’  social  list  enrol’d.” 

Thus  he,  though  conscious  of  th’  ethereal  guest. 
Answer’d  evasive  of  the  sly  request. 

Meantime,  the  lyre  rejoin’d  its  sprightly  lay; 
Love-dittied  airs,  and  dance,  conclude  the  day. 

But  when  the  star  of  eve  with  golden  light 
Adorn’d  the  matron-brow  of  sable  night. 

The  mirthful  train,  dispersing,  quit  the  court. 

And  to  their  several  domes  to  rest  resort. 

A  towering  structure  to  the  palace  join’d: 

To  this  his  steps  the  thoughtful  prince  inclined : 

In  his  pavilion  there,  to  sleep  repairs ; 

The  lighted  torch,  the  sage  Euryclea  bears; 

(Daughter  of  Ops,  the  just  Pisenor’s  son. 

For  twenty  beeves  by  great  Laertes  won; 

In  rosy  prime  with  charms  attractive  graced. 

Honour’d  by  him,  a  gentle  lord  and  chaste. 

With  dear  esteem :  too  wise,  with  jealous  strife 
To  taint  the  joys  of  sweet,  connubial  life. 

Sole  with  Telemachus  her  service  ends, 

A  child  she  nursed  him,  and  a  man  attends.) 

2 


530 


540 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  I. 


26 

While  to  his  couch  himself  the  ,prificg^address’d, 

The  duteous  dame  received  the  purple  vest;  550 

The  purple  vest  with  decent  care  disposed, 

The  silver  ring  she  pull’d,  the  door  reclosed ; 

The  bolt,  obedient  to  the  silken  cord. 

To  the  strong  staple’s  inmost  depth  restored. 

Secured  the  valves.  There,  wrapt  in  silent  shade. 
Pensive,  the  rules  the  goddess  gave,  he  weigh’d ; 
Stretch’d  on  the  downy  fleece,  no  rest  he  knows. 

And  in  his  raptured  soul  the  vision  glows. 


BOSTON  COLLEGE  LIBRARY 
OHeSTNOT  HILL.  MASS. 


BOOK  II. 


The  Council  of  Ithaca;  Departure  of  Telemachus. 

AncuMENT. — Telemachus,  in  the  assembly  of  the  lords  of  Ithaca,  complains 
of  the  injustice  done  him  by  the  suitors,  and  insists  upon  their  departure 
from  his  palace ;  appealing"  to  the  princes,  and  exciting-  the  people  to  declare 
against  them.  The  suitors  endeavour  to  justify  their  stay,  at  least  till  he 
shall  send  the  queen  to  the  court  of  Icarius,  her  father;  which  he  refuses. 
There  appears  a  prodigy  of  two  eagles  in  the  sky,  which  an  augur  expounds 
to  the  ruin  of  the  suitors.  Telemachus  then  demands  a  vessel  to  carry  him 
to  Pylos  and  Sparta,  there  to  inquire  of  his  father’s  fortunes.  Pallas,  in 
the  shape  of  Mentor,  (an  ancient  friend  of  Ulysses,)  helps  him  to  a  ship, 
assists  him  in  preparing  necessaries  for  the  voyage,  and  embarks  with  him 
that  night ;  which  concludes  the  second  day  from  the  opening  of  the  poem. 
The  scene  continues  in  the  palace  of  Ulysses,  in  Ithaca. 

Now  reddening  from  the  dawn,  the  morning-ray 
Glow’d  in  the  front  of  heaven,  and  gave  the  day. 

The  youthful  hero,  with  returning  light. 

Rose  anxious  from  th’  inquietudes  of  night. 

A  royal  robe  he  wore  with  graceful  pride, 

A  two-edged  faulchion  threaten’d  by  his  side, 

Embroider’d  sandals  glitter’d  as  he  trod, 

And  forth  he  moved,  majestic  as  a  god. 

Then  by  his  heralds,  restless  of  delay, 

To  council  calls  the  peers :  the  peers  obey.  1 0 

Soon  as  in  solemn  form  th’  assembly  sate, 

From  his  high  dome  himself  descends  in  state. 

Bright  in  his  hand  a  ponderous  javelin  shined ; 

Two  dogs,  a  faithful  guard,  attend  behind; 

Pallas  with  grace  divine  his  form  improves, 

.  And  gazing  crowds  admire  him  as  he  moves. 

His  father’s  throne  he  fill’d:  while  distant  stood 
The  hoary  peers,  and  aged  wisdom  bow’d. 

’Twas  silence  all.  At  last  ^Egyptius  spoke; 
iEgyptius,  by  his  age  and  sorrows  broke: 


20 


28 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  II. 


A  length  of  days  his  soul  with  prudence  crown^'d, 

A  length  of  days  that  bent  him  to  the  ground. 

His  eldest  hope*  in  arms  to  Ilion  came, 

By  great  Ulysses  taught  the  path  to  fame ; 

But — hapless  youth! — the  hideous  Cyclops  tore 
His  quivering  limbs,  and  quaff’d  his  spouting  gore. 
Three  sons  remain’d:  to  climb  with  haughty  fires 
The  royal  bed,  Eurynomus  aspires ; 

The  rest  with  duteous  love  his  griefs  assuage. 

And  ease  the  sire  of  half  the  cares  of  age. 

Yet  still  his  Antiphus  he  loves,  he  mourns. 

And,  as  he  stood,  he  spoke  and  wept  by  turns : 

“Since  great  Ulysses  sought  the  Phrygian  plains 
Within  these  walls,  inglorious  silence  reigns. 

Say  then,  ye  peers  I  by  whose  commands  we  meet 
Why  here  once  more  in  solemn  council  sit? 

Ye  young,  ye  old,  the  weighty  cause  disclose: 
Arrives  some  message  of  invading  foes? 

Or  say,  does  high  necessity  of  state 
Inspire  some  patriot,  and  demand  debate? 

The  present  synod  speaks  its  author  wise : 

Assist  him,  Jove,  thou  regent  of  the  skies!” 

He  spoke.  Telemachus  with  transport  glows. 
Embraced  the  omen,  and  majestic  rose ; 

(His  royal  hand  th’  imperial  sceptre  sway’d;) 

Then  thus,  addressing  to  ^Egyptius,  said : 

“Reverend  old  man!  lo,  here  confess’d  he  stands 
By  whom  ye  meet;  my  grief  your  care  demands. 
No  story  I  unfold  of  public  woes, 

Nor  bear  advices  of  impending  foes: 

Peace  the  bless’d  land,  and  joys  incessant  crown : 
Of  all  this  happy  realm,  I  grieve  alone. 

For  my  lost  sire  continual  sorrows  spring. 

The  great,  the  good;  your  father,  and  your  king. 
Yet  more,  our  house  from  its  foundation  bows, 

Our  foes  are  powerful,  and  your  sons  the  foes: 


*  Antiphus. 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  II. 


29 


Hither,  unwelcome  to  the  queen,  they  come: 

Why  seek  they  not  the  rich  Icarian  dome? 

If  she  must  wed,  from  other  hands  require 

The  dowry:  is  Telemachus  her  sire?  60 

Yet  through  my  court  the  noise  of  revel  rings. 

And  wastes  the  wise  frugality  of  kings. 

Scarce  all  my  herds  their  luxury  suffice; 

Scarce  all  my  wine  their  midnight  hours  supplies. 

Safe  in  my  youth,  in  riot  still  they  grow. 

Nor  in*the  helpless  orphan  dread  a  foe. 

But  come  it  will,  the  time  when  manhood  grants 
More  powerful  advocates  than  vain  complaints. 

Approach  that  hour !  insufferable  wrong 

Cries  to  the  gods,  and  vengeance  sleeps  too  long.  70 

Rise  then,  ye  peers !  with  virtuous  anger  rise ; 

Your  fame  revere,  but  most  th’  avenging  skies. 

By  all  the  deathless  powers  that  reign  above. 

By  righteous  Themis  and  by  thundering  Jove, 

(Themis,  who  gives  to  councils,  or  denies. 

Success ;  and  humbles,  or  confirms  the  wise,) 

Rise  in  my  aid !  suffice  the  tears  that  flow 
For  my  lost  sire,  nor  add  new  wo  to  wo. 

If  e’er  he  bore  the  sword  to  strengthen  ill, 

Or,  having  power  to  wrong,  betray’d  the  will,  80 

On  me,  on  me  your  kindled  wrath  assuage. 

And  bid  the  voice  of  lawless  riot  rage. 

If  ruin  to  our  royal  race  ye  doom. 

Be  you  the  spoilers,  and  our  wealth  consume. 

Then  might  we  hope  redress  from  juster  laws. 

And  raise  all  Ithaca  to  aid  our  cause : 

But  while  your  sons  commit  th’  unpunish’d  wrong. 

You  make  the  arm  of  violence  too  strong.” 

While  thus  he  spoke,  with  rage  and  grief  he  frown’d. 
And  dash’d  th’  imperial  sceptre  to  the  ground.  90 

The  big  round  tear  hung  trembling  in  his  eye: 

The  synod  grieved,  and  gave  a  pitying  sigh, 

Then  silent  sate.  At  length,  Antinoiis  burns 
With  haughty  rage,  and  sternly  thus  returns: 


30 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  II. 


‘‘Oh,  insolence  of  youth!  whose  tongue  affords 
Such  railing  eloquence,  and  war  of  words. 

Studious  thy  country’s  worthies  to  defame. 

Thy  erring  voice  displays  thy  mother’s  shame. 

Elusive  of  the  bridal-day,  she  gives 

Fond  hopes  to  all,  and  all  with  hopes  deceives. 

Did  not  the  sun,  through  heaven’s  wide  azure  roll  d. 
For  three  long  years  the  royal  fraud  behold  ? 

While  she,  laborious  in  delusion  spread 

The  spacious  loom,  and  mix’d  the  various  thread: 

Where  as  to  life  the  wondrous  figures  rise. 

Thus  spoke  th’  inventive  queen,  with  artful  sighs: 

“‘Though,  cold  in  death,  Ulysses  breathes  no  more. 
Cease  yet  awhile  to  urge  the  bridal-hour: 

Cease,  till  to  great  Laertes  I  bequeath 
A  task  of  grief,  his  ornaments  of  death. 

Lest  when  the  Fates  his  royal  ashes  claim. 

The  Grecian  matrons  taint  my  spotless  fame; 

When  he  whom,  living,  mighty  realms  obey’d. 

Shall  want,  in  death,  a  shroud  to  grace  his  shade.’ 

“Thus  she:  at  once  the  generous  train  complies. 
Nor  fraud  mistrusts  in  virtue’s  fair  disguise. 

The  work  she  plied ;  but,  studious  of  delay. 

By  night  reversed  the  labours  of  the  day. 

While  thrice  the  sun  his  annual  journey  made, 

The  conscious  lamp  the  midnight  fraud  survey’d; 
Unheard,  unseen,  three  years  her  arts  prevail ; 

The  fourth,  her  maid  unfolds  th’  amazing  tale. 


We  saw,  as  unperceived  we  took  our  stand. 

The  backward  labours  of  her  faithless  hand. 
Then  urged,  she  perfects  her  illustrious  toils ; 

A  wondrous  monument  of  female  wiles  1 — 

But  you,  oh  peers !  and  thou,  oh  prince  1  give  ear 
(I  speak  aloud,  that  every  Greek  may  hear) : 
Dismiss  the  queen:  and,  if  her  sire  approves. 

Let  him  espouse  her  to  the  peer  she  loves: 

Bid  instant  to  prepare  the  bridal-train. 

Nor  let  a  race  of  princes  wait  in  vain. 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  II. 


31 


Though  with  a  grace  divine  her  soul  is  bless’d, 

And  all  Minerva  breathes  within  her  breast, 

In  wondrous  arts  than  woman  more  renown’d, 

And  more  than  woman  with  deep  wisdom  crown’d; 
Though  Tyro  nor  Mycene  match  her  name, 

Nor  great  Alcmena  (the  proud  boasts  of  fame) ; 

Yet,  thus  by  Heaven  adorn’d,  by  Heaven’s  decree. 

She  shines  with  fatal  excellence  to  thee:  140 

With  thee,  the  bowl  we  drain,  indulge  the  feast. 

Till  righteous  Heaven  reclaim  her  stubborn  breast. 

What  though  from  pole  to  pole  resounds  her  name ! 

The  son’s  destruction  waits  the  mother’s  fame: 

For,  till  she  leaves  thy  court,  it  is  decreed. 

Thy  bowl  to  empty,  and  thy  flock  to  bleed.” 

While  yet  he  speaks,  Telemachus  replies: 

“Even  nature  starts,  and  what  ye  ask  denies. 

Thus,  shall  I  thus  repay  a  mother’s  cares, 

Who  gave  me  life,  and  nursed  my  infant  years?  150 
While  sad  on  foreign  shores  Ulysses  treads. 

Or  glides  a  ghost  with  unapparent  shades ; 

How  to  Icarius  in  the  bridal-hour 

Shall  I,  by  waste  undone,  refund  the  dower? 

How  from  my  father  should  I  vengeance  dread ! 

How  would  my  mother  curse  my  hated  head ! 

And  while  in  wrath  to  vengeful  fiends  she  cries, 

How  from  their  hell  would  vengeful  fiends  arise ! 
Abhorr’d  by  all,  accursed  my  name  would  grow. 

The  earth’s  disgrace,  and  human-kind  my  foe.  160 

If  this  displease,  why  urge  ye  here  your  stay? 

Haste  from  the  court,  ye  spoilers,  haste  away: 

Waste  in  wild  riot  what  your  land  allows. 

There  ply  the  early  feast,  and  late  carouse. 

But  if,  to  honour  lost,  ’tis  still  decreed. 

For  you  my  bowl  shall  flow,  my  flock  shall  bleed; 

Judge  and  assert  my  right,  impartial  Jove! 

By  him,  and  all  th’  immortal  hosts  above, 

(A  sacred  oath,)  if  heaven  the  power  supply, 

Vengeance  I  vow,  and  for  your  wrongs  ye  die.” 


170 


32 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  II. 


With  that,  two  eagles  from  a  mountain’s  height, 

By  Jove’s  command,  direct  their  rapid  flight; 

Swift  they  descend,  with  wing  to  wing  conjoin’d. 

Stretch  their  broad  plumes,  and  float  upon  the  wind ; 
Above  th’  assembled  peers  they  wheel  on  high. 

And  clang  their  wings,  and  hovering  beat  the  sky ; 

With  ardent  eyes  the  rival  train  they  threat. 

And,  shrieking  loud,  denounce  approaching  fate. 

They  cuff,  they  tear;  their  cheeks  and  necks  they  rend, 
And  from  their  plumes  huge  drops  of  blood  descend;  180 
Then,  sailing  o’er  the  domes  and  towers,  they  fly 
Full  tow’rd  the  east,  and  mount  into  the  sky. 

The  wondering  rivals  gaze  with  cares  oppress’d. 

And  chilling  horrors  freeze  in  every  breast. 

Till  big  with  knowledge  of  approaching  woes 
The  prince  of  augurs,  Halitherses,  rose: 

Prescient  he  view’d  the  aerial  tracks,  and  drew 
A  sure  presage  from  every  wing  that  flew. 

“Ye  sons,”  he  cried,  “of  Ithaca,  give  ear. 

Hear  all!  but  chiefly  you,  oh  rivals  1  hear.  190 

Destruction  sure  o’er  all  your  heads  impends; 

Ulysses  comes,  and  death  his  steps  attends. 

Nor  to  the  great  alone  is  death  decreed ; 

We  and  our  guilty  Ithaca  must  bleed! 

Why  cease  we  then  the  wrath  of  heaven  to  stay? 

Be  humbled  all,  and  lead,  ye  great  1  the  way. 

For,  lo!  my  words  no  fancied  woes  relate: 

I  speak  from  science,  and  the  voice  is  fate. 

When  great  Ulysses  sought  the  Phrygian  shores. 

To  shake  with  war  proud  Ilion’s  lofty  towers,  200 

Deeds  then  undone  my  faithful  tongue  foretold: 

Heaven  seal’d  my  words,  and  you  these  deeds  behold. 

H  see,’  I  cried,  ‘his  woes,  a  countless  train; 

I  see  his  friends  o’erw^helmed  beneath  the  main ; 

How  twice  ten  years  from  shore  to  shore  he  roams ;’ 

Now  twice  ten  years  are  past,  and  now  he  comes.” 

To  whom  Eurymachus:  “Fly,  dotard,  fly! 

With  thy  wise  dreams,  and  fables  of  the  sky. 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  II. 


33 


Go  prophesy  at  home,  thy  sons  advise : 

Here  thou  art  sage  in  vain^ — -I  better  read  the  skies.  210 
Unnumber’d  birds  glide  through  the  aerial  way, 

Vagrants  of  air,  and  unforeboding  stray. 

Cold  in  the  tomb,  or  in  the  deeps  below, 

Ulysses  lies! — Oh,  wert  thou  laid  as  low! 

Then  would  that  busy  head  no  broils  suggest, 

Nor  fire  to  rage  Telemachus’s  breast. 

From  him  some  bribe  thy  .venal  tongue  requires. 

And  interest,  not  the  god,  thy  voice  inspires. 

His  guideless  youth,  if  thy  experienced  age 

Mislead  fallacious  into  idle  rage,  220 

V engeance  deserved  thy  malice  shall  repress, 

And  but  augment  the  wrongs  thou  wouldst  redress: 
Telemachus  may  bid  the  queen  repair 
To  great  Icarius,  whose  paternal  care 
Will  guide  her  passion,  and  reward  her  choice, 

With  wealthy  dower,  and  bridal-gifts  of  price. 

Till  she  retires,  determined  we  remain. 

And  both  the  prince  and  augur  threat  in  vain: 

His  pride  of  words,  and  thy  wild  dream  of  fate. 

Move  not  the  brave,  or  only  move  their  hate.  230 

Threat  on,  O  prince!  elude  the  bridal-day. 

Threat  on,  till  all  thy  stores  in  waste  decay. 

True,  Greece  affords  a  train  of  lovely  dames, 

In  wealth  and  beauty  worthy  of  our  flames: 

But  never  from  this  nobler  suit  we  cease ; 

For  wealth  and  beauty  less  than  virtue  please.” 

To  whom  the  youth:  “Since  then  in  vain  I  tell 
My  numerous  woes,  in  silence  let  them  dwell. 

But  Heaven,  and  all  the  Greeks,  have  heard  my  wrongs ; 
To  Heaven,  and  all  the  Greeks,  redress  belongs.  240 
Yet  this  I  ask,  (nor  be  it  asked  in  vain,) 

A  bark  to  waft  me  o’er  the  rolling  main. 

The  realms  of  Pyle  and  Sparta  to  explore, 

And  seek  my  royal  sire  from  shore  to  shore: 

If,  or  to  fame  his  doubtful  fate  be  known, 

Or  to  be  learn’d  from  oracles  alone. 

2*  C 


34 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  II. 


If  yet  he  lives,  with  patience  I  forbear, 

Till  the  fleet  hours  restore  the  circling  year: 

But  if  already  wandering  in  the  train 

Of  empty  shades,  I  measure  back  the  main,  2o0 

Plant  the  fair  column  o’er  the  mighty  dead. 

And  yield  his  consort  to  the  nuptial  bed.” 

He  ceased;  and  while  abash’d  the  peers  attend. 

Mentor  arose,  Ulysses’  faithful  friend: 

[When  fierce  in  arms  he  sought  the  scenes  of  war, 

“My  friend,”  he  cried,  “my  palace  be  thy  care; 

Years  roll’d  on  years  my  godlike  sire  decay. 

Guard  thou  his  age,  and  his  behests  obey.”] 

Stern  as  he  rose  he  cast  his  eyes  around. 

That  flash’d  with  rage ;  and,  as  he  spoke,  he  frown’d :  200 
“Oh,  never,  never  more,  let  king  be  just, 

Be  mild  in  power,  or  faithful  to  his  trust ! 

Let  tyrants  govern  with  an  iron  rod. 

Oppress,  destroy,  and  be  the  scourge  of  God: 

Since  he  who  like  a  father  held  his  reign. 

So  soon  forgot,  was  just  and  mild  in  vain! 

True,  while  my  friend  is  grieved,  his  griefs  I  share ; 

Yet  now  the  rivals  are  my  smallest  care: 

They,  for  the  mighty  mischiefs  they  devise. 

Ere  long  shall  pay — their  forfeit  lives  the  price,  270 

But  against  you,  ye  Greeks!  ye  coward  train! 

Gods !  how  my  soul  is  moved  with  just  disdain ! 

Dumb  ye  all  stand,  and  not  one  tongue  affords 
His  injured  prince  the  little  aid  of  words.” 

While  yet  he  spoke,  Leocritus  rejoin’d: 

“  Oh,  pride  of  words,  and  arrogance  of  mind ! 

Would’ st  thou  to  rise  in  arms  the  Greeks  advise? 

Join  all  your  powers!  in  arms,  ye  Greeks,  arise! 

Yet  would  your  powers  in  vain  our  strength  oppose: 

The  valiant  few  o’ermatch  a  host  of  foes.  280 

Should  great  Ulysses  stern  appear  in  arms. 

While  the  bowl  circles,  and  the  banquet  warms ; 

Though  to  his  breast  his  spouse  with  transport  flies, 

Torn  from  her  breast,  that  hour,  Ulysses  dies. 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  II. 


35 


But  hence  retreating,  to  your  domes  repair; 

To  arm  the  vessel,  Mentor!  be  thy  care. 

And,  Halitherses!  thine:  be  each  his  friend; 

Ye  loved  the  father:  go,  the  son  attend. 

But  yet,  I  trust,  the  boaster  means  to  stay 
Safe  in  the  court,  nor  tempt  the  watery  way.”  290 

Then,  with  a  rushing  sound,  th’  assembly  bend 
Diverse  their  steps :  the  rival  rout  ascend 
The  royal  dome:  while  sad  the  prince  explores 
The  neighbouring  main,  and  sorrowing  treads  the  shores. 
There,  as  the  waters  o’er  his  hands  he  shed, 

The  royal  suppliant  to  Minerva  pray’d: 

“Oh,  goddess!  who,  descending  from  the  skies. 
Vouchsafed  thy  presence  to  my  wandering  eyes, 

By  whose  commands  the  raging  deeps  I  trace. 

And  seek  my  sire  through  storms  and  rolling  seas !  300 

Hear  from  thy  heavens  above,  oh,  warrior  maid ! 

Descend  once  more,  propitious  to  my  aid! 

Without  thy  presence,  vain  is  thy  command : 

Greece  and  the  rival  train  thy  voice  withstand.” 

Indulgent  to  his  prayer,  the  goddess  took 
Sage  Mentor’s  form,  and  thus  like  Mentor  spoke: 

“Oh,  prince!  in  early  youth  divinely  wise. 

Born,  th’  Ulysses  of  thy  age  to  rise ! 

If  to  the  son  the  father’s  worth  descends, 

O’er  the  wide  waves  success  thy  ways  attends:  310 

To  tread  the  walks  of  death  he  stood  prepared; 

And  what  he  greatly  thought,  he  nobly  dared. 

Were  not  wise  sons  descendent  of  the  wise. 

And  did  not  heroes  from  brave  heroes  rise. 

Vain  were  my  hopes;  few  sons  attain  the  praise 
Of  their  great  sires,  and  most  their  sires  disgrace. 

But  since  thy  veins  paternal  virtue  fires. 

And  all  Penelop6  thy  soul  inspires. 

Go,  and  succeed !  the  rivals’  aims  despise ; 

For  never,  never,  wicked  man  was  wise.  320 

Blind  they  rejoice,  though  now,  ev’n  now  they  fall ; 

Death  nastes  amain:  one  hour  o’erw helms  them  all! 


36 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  II. 


And  lo,  with  speed  we  plough  the  watery  way ; 

My  power  shall  guard  thee,  and  my  hand  convey: 

The  winged  vessel  studious  I  prepare, 

Through  seas  and  realms  companion  of  thy  care. 

Thou  to  the  court  ascend:  and  to  the  shores 
(When  night  advances)  bear  the  naval  stores ; 

Bread,  that  decaying  man  with  strength  supplies. 

And  generous  wine,  which  thoughtful  sorrow  flies.  330 
Meanwhile,  the  mariners,  by  my  command. 

Shall  speed  aboard,  a  valiant,  chosen  band. 

Wide  o’er  the  bay,  by  vessel  vessel  rides: 

The  best  I  choose  to  waft  thee  o’er  the  tides.” 

She  spoke:  to  his  high  dome  the  prince  returns. 

And,  as  he  moves,  with  royal  anguish  mourns. 

’Twas  riot  all,  among  the  lawless  train; 

Boar  bled  by  boar,  and  goat  by  goat  lay  slain. 

Arrived,  his  hand  the  gay  Antinoiis  press’d, 

And  thus,  deriding,  with  a  smile  address’d :  340 

“Grieve  not,  oh  daring  prince!  that  noble  heart: 

Ill  suits  gay  youth  the  stern  heroic  part. 

Indulge  the  genial  hour,  unbend  thy  soul. 

Leave  thought  to  age,  and  drain  the  flowing  bowl. 
Studious  to  ease  thy  grief,  our  care  provides 
The  bark,  to  waft  thee  o’er  the  swelling  tides.” 

“Is  this,”  returns  the  prince,  “for  mirth  a  time? 

When  lawless  gluttons. riot,  mirth’s  a  crime; 

The  luscious  wines,  dishonour’d,  lose  their  taste; 

The  song  is  noise,  and  impious  is  the  feast.  350 

Suffice  it  to  have  spent  with  swift  decay 
The  wealth  of  kings,  and  made  my  youth  a  prey. 

But  now  the  wise  instructions  of  the  sage. 

And  manly  thoughts  inspired  by  manly  age. 

Teach  me  to  seek  redress  for  all  my  wo. 

Here,  or  in  Pyle — in  Pyle,  or  here,  your  foe. 

Deny  your  vessels,  ye  deny  in  vain: 

A  private  voyager  I  pass  the  main. 

Free  breathe  the  winds,  and  free  the  billows  flow, 

And  where  on  earth  I  live,  I  live  your  foe  ” 


360 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  II. 


37 


He  spoke,  and  frown’d;  nor  longer  deign’d  to  stay, 
Sternly  his  hand  withdrew,  and  strode  away. 

Meantime,  o’er  all  the  dome,  they  quaff,  they  feast. 
Derisive  taunts  were  spread  from  guest  to  guest. 

And  each  in  jovial  mood  his  mate  address’d : 

“Tremble  ye  not,  oh  friends!  and  coward  fly. 

Doom’d  by  the  stern  Telemachus  to  die? 

To  Pyle  or  Sparta  to  demand  supplies. 

Big  with  revenge,  the  mighty  warrior  flies: 

Or  comes  from  Ephyr6  with  poisons  fraught !  370 

And  kills  us  all  in  one  tremendous  draught!” 

“Or  who  can  say,”  his  gamesome  mate  replies, 

“But,  while  the  dangers  of  the  deeps  he  tries. 

He,  like  his  sire,  may  sink  deprived  of  breath. 

And  punish  us  unkindly  by  his  death? 

What  mighty  labours  would  he  then  create. 

To  seize  his  treasures,  and  divide  his  state. 

The  royal  palace  to  the  queen  convey. 

Or  him  she  blesses  in  the  bridal-day !” 

Meantime,  the  Jofty  room  the  prince  surveys,  380 
Where  lay  the  treasures  of  th’  Ithacian  race : 

Here  ruddy  brass  and  gold  refulgent  blazed ; 

There  polish’d  chests  embroider’d  vestures  graced: 

Here  jars  of  oil  breathed  forth  a  rich  perfume ; 

There  casks  of  wine  in  rows  adorn’d  the  dome: 

(Pure,  flavorous  wine,  by  gods  in  bounty  given. 

And  worthy  to  exalt  the  feasts  of  heaven.) 

Untouch’d  they  stood,  till,  his  long  labours  o’er. 

The  great  Ulysses  reach’d  his  native  shore. 

A  double  strength  of  bars  secured  the  gates :  390 

Fast  by  the  door  the  wise  Euryclea  waits: 

Euryclea,  who,  great 'Ops!  thy  lineage  shared. 

And  watch’d  all  night,  ail  day  a  faithful  guard. 

To  whom  the  prince:  “Oh  thou,  whose  guardian  care 
Nursed  the  most  wretched  king  that ’breathes  the  air! 
Untouch’d  and  sacred  may  these  vessels  stand. 

Till  great  Ulysses  views  his  native  land. 

But  by  thy  care  twelve  urns  of  wine  be  fill’d ; 

Next  these  in  worth,  and  firm  those  urns  be  scal’d; 


38 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  II. 


And  twice  ten  measures  of  the  choicest  flour  400 

Prepared,  ere  yet  descends  the  evening  hour; 

For  when  the  favouring  shades  of  night  arise, 

And  peaceful  slumbers  close  my  mother’s  eyes, 

Me  from  our  coast  shall  spreading  sails  convey. 

To  seek  Ulysses  through  the  watery  way.” 

While  yet  he  spoke,  she  fill’d  the  walls  with  cries. 

And  tears  ran  trickling  from  her  aged  eyes. 

“Oh,  whither,  whither  flies  my  son?”  she  cried; 

“To  realms,  that  rocks  and  roaring  seas  divide? 

In  foreign  lands  thy  father’s  days  decay’d,  410 

And  foreign  lands  contain  the  mighty  dead. 

The  watery  way  ill-fated  if  thou  try. 

All,  all  must  perish,  and  by  fraud  you  die ! 

Then  stay,  my  child !  storms  beat,  and  roll  the  main, 

Oh,  beat  those  storms,  and  roll  the  seas  in  vain !” 

“Far  hence,”  replied  the  prince,  “thy  fears  be  driven: 
Heaven  calls  me  forth;  these  counsels  are  of  Heaven. 
But,  by  the  powers  that  hate  the  perjured,  swear. 

To  keep  my  voyage  from  the  royal  ear. 

Nor  uncompel’d  the  dangerous  truth  betray,  420 

Till  twice  six  times  descends  the  lamp  of  day: 

Lest  the  sad  tale  a  mother’s  life  impair. 

And  grief  destroy  what  time  awhile  would  spare.” 

Thus  he.  The  matron,  with  uplifted  eyes. 

Attests  th’  all-seeing  sovereign  of  the  skies. 

Then  studious  she  prepares  the  choicest  flour. 

The  strength  of  wheat,  and  wines  an  ample  store ; 

While  to  the  rival  train  the  prince  returns. 

The  martial  goddess  with  impatience  burns; 

Like  thee,  Telemachus,  in  voice-  and  size,  430 

With  speed  divine  from  street  to  street  she  flies; 

She  bids  the  mariners,  prepared,  to  stand. 

When  night  descends,,  embodied  on  the  strand. 

Then  to  Noemon  swift  she  runs,  she  flies. 

And  asks  a  bark:  the  chief  a  bark  supplies. 

And  now,  declining,  with  his  sloping  wheels, 

Down  sunk  the  sun  behind  the  western  hills. 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  II. 

The  goddess  shoved  the  vessel  from  the  shores, 

And  stow’d  within  its  womb  the  naval  stores. 

F nil  in  the  openings  of  the  spacious  main 
It  rides;  and  now  descends  the  sailor-train. 

Next,  to  the  court,  impatient  of  delay. 

With  rapid  steps  the  goddess  urged  her  way; 

There  every  eye  with  slumbrous  chains  she  bound. 

And  dash’d  the  flowing  goblet  to  the  ground. 

Drowsy  they  rose,  with  heavy  fumes  oppress’d, 

Reel’d  from  the  palace,  and  retired  to  rest. 

Then  thus,  in  Mentor’s  reverend  form  array’d, 

Spoke  to  Telemachus  the  martial  maid: 

‘‘Lo!  on  the  seas,  prepared  the  vessel  stands,  450 

Th’  impatient  mariner  thy  speed  demands.” 

Swift  as  she  spoke,  with  rapid  pace  she  leads ; 

The  footsteps  of  the  deity  he  treads. 

Swift  to  the  shore  they  move:  along  the  strand 
The  ready  vessel  rides,  the  sailors  ready  stand. 

He  bids  them  bring  their  stores ;  th’  attending  train 
Load  the  tall  bark,  and  launch  into  the  main. 

The  prince  and  goddess  to  the  stern  ascend ; 

To  the  strong  stroke  at  one  the  rowers  bend. 

Full  from  the  west  she  bids  fresh  breezes  blow;  460 
The  sable  billows  foam  and  roar  below. 

The  chief  his  orders  gives:  th’  obedient  band 
With  due  observance  wait  the  chief’s  command : 

With  speed  the  mast  they  rear,  with  speed  unbind 
The  spacious  sheet,  and  stretch  it  to  the  wind. 

High  o’er  the  roaring  waves  the  spreading  sails 
Bow  the  tall  mast,  and  swell  before  the  gales ; 

The  crooked  keel  the  parting  surge  divides. 

And  to  the  stern  retreating  roll  the  tides. 

And  now  they  ship  their  oars,  and  crown  with  wine  470 
The  holy  goblet  to  the  powers  divine: 

Imploring  all  the  gods  that  reign  above. 

But  chief  the  blue-eyed  progeny  of  Jove. 

Thus  all  the  night  they  stem  the  liquid  way, 

And  end  their  voyage  with  the  morning  ray. 


39 


440 


B  0  0  K  1 1 1. 

The  Interview  of  Telemachus  and  Nestor. 

Argument. — Telemachus,  g-uided  by  Pallas  in  the  shape  of  Mentor,  arrives 
in  the  morning"  at  Pylos,  where  Nestor  and  his  sons  are  sacrificing"  on  the 
sea-shore  to  Neptune.  Telemachus  declares  the  occasion  of  his  coming", 
and  Nestor  relates  what  passed  in  their  return  from  Troy,  how  their  fleets 
were  separated,  and  he  never  since  heard  of  Ulysses.  They  discourse 
concerning"  the  death  of  Ag"araemnon,  the  revenge  of  Orestes,  and  the 
injuries  of  the  suitors.  Nestor  advises  him  to  go  to  Sparta,  and  inquire 
further  of  Menelatis.  The  sacrifice  ended  with  the  night,  Minerva 
vanishes  from  them  in  the  form  of  an  eagle.  Telemachus  is  lodged  in 
the  palace.  The  next  morning  they  sacrifice  a  bullock  to  Minerva;  and 
Telemachus  proceeds  on  his  journey  to  Sparta,  attended  by  Pisistratus. 
The  scene  lies  on  the  sea-shore  of  Pylos. 

The  sacred  sun,  above  the  waters  raised, 

Through  heaven’s  eternal,  brazen  portals  blazed ; 

And  wide  o’er  earth  diffused  his  cheering  ray. 

To  gods  and  men  to  give  the  golden  day. 

Now  on  the  coast  of  Pyle  the  vessel  falls 
Before  old  Neleus’  venerable  walls. 

There,  suppliant  to  the  monarch  of  the  flood. 

At  nine  green  theatres  the  Pylians  stood. 

Each  held  five  hundred,  (a  deputed  train,) 

At  each,  nine  oxen  on  the  sand  lay  slain. 

They  taste  the  entrails,  and  the  altars  load 
With  smoking  thighs,  an  offering  to  the  god. 

Full  for  the  port  the  Ithacensians  stand. 

And  furl  their  sails,  and  issue  on  the  land. 

Telemachus  already  press’d  the  shore ; 

Not  first,  the  power  of  wisdom  march’d  before. 

And,  ere  the  sacrificing  throng  he  join’d. 

Admonish’d  thus  his  well-attending  mind: 

“Proceed,  my  son!  this  youthful  shame  expel: 

An  honest  business  never  blush  to  tell. 


20 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  III. 

To  learn  what  fates  thy  wretched  sire  detain, 

We  pass’d  the  wide,  immeasurable  main. 

Meet  then  the  senior,  far  renown’d  for  sense. 

With  reverend  awe,  but  decent  confidence: 

Urge  him  with  truth  to  frame  his  fair  replies; 

And  sure  he  will:  for  wisdom  never  lies.” 

“Oh,  tell  me,  Mentor!  tell  me,  faithful  guide,” 

The  youth  with  prudent  modesty  replied, 

“How  shall  I  meet,  or  how  accost  the  sage, 

Unskill’d  in  speech,  nor  yet  mature  of  age? 

Awful  th’  approach,  and  hard  the  task  appears. 

To  question  wisely  men  of  riper  years.” 

To  whom  the  martial  goddess  thus  rejoin’d: 
“Search,  for  some  thoughts,  thy  own  suggesting  mind 
And  others,  dictated  by  heavenly  power. 

Shall  rise  spontaneous  in  the  needful  hour: 

For  nought  unprosperous  shall  thy  ways  attend. 

Born  with  good  omens,  and  with  Heaven  thy  friend.” 

She  spoke,  and  led  the  way  with  swiftest  speed : 

As  swift,  the  youth  pursued  the  way  she  led; 

And  join’d  the  band  before  the  sacred  fire. 

Where  sate,  encompass’d  with  his  sons,  the  sire. 

The  youth  of  Pylos,  some  on  pointed  wood 
Transfix’d  the  fragments,  some  prepared  the  food; 

In  friendly  throngs  they  gather  to  embrace 
Their  unknown  guests,  and  at  the  banquet  place. 
Pisistratus  was  first  to  grasp  their  hands. 

And  spread  soft  hides  upon  the  yellow  sands ; 

Along  the  shore  th’  illustrious  pair  he  led. 

Where  Nestor  sate  with  youthful  Thrasymed. 

To  each  a  portion  of  the  feast  he  bore. 

And  held  the  golden  goblet  foaming  o’er ; 

Then  first  approaching  to  the  elder  guest. 

The  latent  goddess  in  these  words  address’d: 

“Whoe’er  thou  art,  whom  fortune  brings  to  keep 
The  rites  of  Neptune,  monarch  of  the  deep, 

Thee  first  it  fits,  oh  stranger!  to  prepare 
The  due  libation  and  the  solemn  prayer; 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  III. 


42 

Then  give  thy  friend  to  shed  the  sacred  wine: 

Though  much  thy  younger,  and  his  years  like  mine,  60 
He  too,  I  deem,  implores  the  powers  divine: 

For  all  mankind  alike  require  their  grace. 

All  born  to  want ;  a  miserable  race 

He  spake;  and  to  her  hand  prefer^d  the  bowl: 

A  secret  pleasure  touch’d  Athena’s  soul. 

To  see  the  preference  due  to  sacred  age 
Regarded  ever  by  the  just  and  sage. 

Of  Ocean’s  king  she  then  implored  the  grace: 

“Oh,  thou!  whose  arms  this  ample  globe  embrace. 
Fulfil  our  wish,  and  let  thy  glory  shine 
On  Nestor  first,  and  Nestor’s  royal  line; 

Next  grant  the  Pylian  states  their  just  desires. 

Pleased  with  their  hecatomb’s  ascending  fires; 

Last,  deign  Telemachus  and  me  to  bless. 

And  crown  our  voyage  with  desired  success.” 

Thus  she;  and,  having  paid  the  rite  divine. 

Gave  to  Ulysses’  son  the  rosy  wine. 

Suppliant  he  pray’d.  And  now,  the  victims  dress’d. 
They  draw,  divide,  and  celebrate  the  feast. 

The  banquet  done,  the  narrative  old  man,  8i 

Thus  mild,  the  pleasing  conference  began: 

“Now,  gentle  guests!  the  genial  banquet  oer. 

It  fits  to  ask  ye,  what  your  native  shore, 

And  whence  your  race?  on  what  adventure,  say. 

Thus  far  ye  wander  through  the  watery  way? 

Relate,  if  business,  or  the  thirst  of  gain. 

Engage  your  journey  o’er  the  pathless  main : 

Where  savage  pirates  seek  through  Seas  unknown 
The  lives  of  others,  venturous  of  their  own.” 

Urged  by  the  precepts  by  the  goddess  given,  9 

And  fill’d  with  confidence  infused  from  Heaven, 

The  youth,  whom  Pallas  destined  to  be  wise 
And  famed  among  the  sons  of  men,  replies: 

“Inquir’st  thou,  father!  from  what  coast  we  came? 
(Oh,  grace  and  glory  of  the  Grecian  name!) 

From  where  high  Ithaca  o’erlooks  the  floods, 

Brown  with  o’er-arching  shades  and  pendant  woods, 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  III.  43 

Us  to  these  shores  our  filial  duty  draws 
A  private  sorrow,  not  a  public  cause. 

My  sire  I  seek,  where’er  the  voice  of  fame  100 

Has  told  the  glories  of  his  noble  name. 

The  great  Ulysses;  famed  from  shore  to  shore 
For  valour  much,  for  hardy  suffering  more. 

Long  time  with  thee  before  proud  Ilion’s  wall 
In  arms  he  fought ;  with  thee  beheld  her  fall. 

Of  all  the  chiefs,  this  hero’s  fate  alone 

Has  Jove  reserved,  unheard  of,  and  unknown; 

Whether  in  fields  by  hostile  fury  slain, 

Or  sunk  by  tempests  in  the  gulfy  main? 

Of  this  to  learn,  oppress’d  with  tender  fears,  110 

Lo,  at  thy  knee  his  suppliant  son  appears. 

If  or  thy  certain  eye,  or  curious  ear. 

Have  learned  his  fate,  the  whole  dark  story  clear: 

And,  oh !  whate’er  Heaven  destined  to  betide. 

Let  neither  flattery  smoothe,  nor  pity  hide. 

Prepared  I  stand:  he  was  but  born  to  try 
The  lot  of  man;  to  suffer,  and  to  die. 

Oh !  then,  if  ever  through  the  ten  years’  war 
The  wise,  the  good  Ulysses  claim’d  thy  care ; 

If  e’er  he  join’d  thy  council,  or  thy  sword,  120 

True  in  his  deed,  and  constant  to  his  word; 

Far  as  thy  mind  through  backward  time  can  see, 

Search  all  thy  stores  of  faithful  memory: 

’Tis  sacred  truth  I  ask,  and  ask  of  thee.” 

To  him  experienced  Nestor  thus  rejoin’d: 

“  Oh,  friend !  what  sorrows  dost  thou  bring  to  mind ! 

Shall  I  the  long,  laborious  scene  review. 

And  open  all  the  wounds  of  Greece  anew  ? 

What  toils  by  sea !  where  dark  in  quest  of  prey 
Dauntless  we  roved ;  Achilles  led  the  way:  130 

What  toils  by  land  \  where  mix’d  in  fatal  fight 
Such  numbers  fell,  such  heroes  sunk  to  night: 

There  Ajax  great,  Achilles  there  the  brave, 

There  wise  Patroclus,  fill  an  early  grave : 

There  too  my  son — ah!  once  my  best  delight, 

Once  swift  of  foot,  and  terrible  in  fight; 


44 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  III. 


In  whom  stern  courage  with  soft  virtue  join’d, 

A  faultless  body,  and  a  blameless  mind;  ’ 

Antilochus - What  more  can  I  relate? 

How  trace  the  tedious  series  of  our  fate?  140 

Not  added  years  on  years  my  task  could  close, 

The  long  historian  of  my  country’s  woes: 

Back  to  thy  native  islands  might’st  thou  sail, 

And  leave  half-heard  the  melancholy  tale. 

Nine  painful  years  on  that  detested  shore. 

What  stratagems  we  form’d,  what  toils  we  bore ! 

Still  labouring  on,  till  scarce  at  last  we  found 
Great  Jove  propitious,  and  our  conquest  crown’d. 

Far  o’er  the  rest  thy  mighty  father  shined. 

In  wit,  in  prudence,  and  in  force  of  mind.  150 

Art  thou  the  son  of  that  illustrious  sire? 

With  joy  I  grasp  thee,  and  with  love  admire. 

So  like  your  voices,  and  your  words  so  wise. 

Who  finds  thee  younger  must  consult  his  eyes. 

Thy  sire  and  I  were  one ;  nor  varied  aught 
In  public  sentence,  or  in  private  thought ; 

Alike  to  council,  or  th’  assembly  came. 

With  equal  souls,  and  sentiments  the  same. 

But  when  (by  wisdom  won)  proud  Ilion  burn’d. 

And  in  their  ships  the  conquering  Greeks  return’d,  160 
’Twas  God’s  high  will  the  victors  to  divide. 

And  turn  th’  event,  confounding  human  pride: 

Some  he  destroy’d,  some  scatter’d  as  the  dust, 

(Not  all  were  prudent,  and  not  all  were  just.) 

Then  Discord,  sent  by  Pallas  from  above. 

Stern  daughter  of  the  great  avenger,  Jove, 

The  brother-kings  inspired  with  fell  debate; 

Who  call’d  to  council  all  th’  Achaian  state; 

But  call’d  untimely  (not  the  sacred  rite 

Observed,  nor  heedful  of  the  setting  light,  170 

Nor  herald  sworn  the  session  to  proclaim). 

Sour  with  debauch,  a  reeling  tribe  they  came. 

To  these  the  cause  of  meeting  they  explain, 

And  Menelaiis  moves  to  ci'oss  the  main ; 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  III. 


45 


Not  so  the  king  of  men;  he  will’d  to  stay, 

The  sacred  rites  and  hecatombs  to  pay, 

And  calm  Minerva’s  wrath.  Oh,  blind  to  fate ! 

The  gods  not  lightly  change  their  love  or  hate. 

With  ireful  taunts  each  other  they  oppose. 

Till  in  loud  tumult  all  the  Greeks  arose.  180 

Now  different  counsels  every  breast  divide. 

Each  burns  with  rancour  to  the  adverse  side: 

Th’  unquiet  night  strange  projects  entertain’d 
(So  Jove,  that  urged  us  to  our  fate,  ordain’d). 

We,  with  the  rising  morn,  our  ships  unmoor’d. 

And  brought  our  captives  and  our  stores  aboard ; 

But  half  the  people  with  respect  obey’d 
The  king  of  men,  and  at  his  bidding  staid. 

Now  on  the  wings  of  winds  our  course  we  keep 

(For  God  had  smooth’d  the  waters  of  the  deep);  190 

For  Tenedos  we  spread  our  eager  oars. 

There  land,  and  pay  due  victims  to  the  powers. 

To  bless  our  safe  return,  we  join  in  prayer; 

But  angry  Jove  dispersed  our  vows  in  air. 

And  raised  new  discord.  Then  (so  Heaven  decreed) 
Ulysses  first  and  Nestor  disagreed: 

Wise  as  he  was,  by  various  counsels  sway’d. 

He  there,  though  late,  to  please  the  monarch,  staid. 

But  I,  determined,  stem  the  foamy  floods. 

Warn’d  of  the  coming  fury  of  the  gods.  200 

With  us,  Tydides  fear’d,  and  urged  his  haste. 

And  Menelaus  came,  but  came  the  last. 

He  join’d  our  vessels  in  the  Lesbian  bay. 

While  yet  we  doubted  of  our  watery  way; 

If  to  the  right  to  urge  the  pilot’s  toil, 

(The  safer  road,)  beside  the  Psyrian  isle: 

Or  the  straight  course  to  rocky  Chios  plough. 

And  anchor  under  Mimas’  shaggy  brow? 

We  sought  direction  of  the  power  divine: 

The  god  propitious  gave  the  guiding  sign;  210 

Through  the  mild  seas  he  bid  our  navy  steer. 

And  in  Euboea  shun  the  woes  we  fear. 


46 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  III. 


The  whistling  winds  already  waked  the  sky ; 

Before  the  whistling  winds  the  vessels  fly, 

With  rapid  swiftness  cut  the  liquid  way, 

And  reach  Gerestus  at  the  point  of  day. 

There  hecatombs  of  bulls,  to  Neptune  slain, 

High-flaming  please  the  monarch  of  the  main. 

The  fourth  day  shone,  when,  all  their  labours  o’er, 
Tydides’  vessels  touch’d  the  wish’d-for  shore.  220 

But  I  to  Pylos  scud  before  the  gales. 

The  god  still  breathing  on  my  swelling  sails; 

Separate  from  all,  I  safely  landed  here; 

Their  fates  or  fortunes  never  reach’d  my  ear. 

Yet  what  I  learn’d,  attend;  as  here  I  sate. 

And  ask’d  each  voyager  each  hero’s  fate ; 

Curious  to  know,  and  willing  to  relate : 

Safe  reach’d  the  Myrmidons  their  native  land. 

Beneath  Achilles’  warlike  son’s  command. 

Those,  whom  the  heir  of  great  Apollo’s  art,  230 

Brave  Philoctetes,  taught  to  wing  the  dart; 

And  those  whom  Idomen  from  Ilion’s  plain 
Had  led,  securely  cross’d  the  dreadful  main. 

How  Agamemnon  touch’d  his  Argive  coast. 

And  how  his  life  by  fraud  and  force  he  lost. 

And  how  the  murderer  paid  his  forfeit  breath. 

What  lands  so  distant  from  that  scene  of  death 
But  trembling  heard  the  fame?  and,  heard,  admire 
How  well  the  son  appeased  his  slaughter’d  sire ! 

Ev’n  to  th’  unhappy,  that  unjustly  bleed,  240 

Heaven  gives  posterity,  t’  avenge  the  deed. 

So  fell  ^gysthus;  and  may’st  thou,  my  friend, 

(On  whom  the  virtues  of  thy  sire  descend,) 

Make  future  times  thjr  equal  act  adore. 

And  be  what  brave  Orestes  was  before !” 

The  prudent  youth  replied:  “Oh  thou,  the  grace 
And  lasting  glory  of  the  Grecian  race ! 

Just  was  the  vengeance,  and  to  latest  days 
Shall  long  posterity  resound  the  praise. 

Some  god  this  arm  with  equal  prowess  bless ! 

And  the  proud  suitors  shall  its  force  confess: 


250 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  III. 


47 


Injurious  men !  who,  while  my  soul  is  sore 
Of  fresh  affronts,  are  meditating  more. 

But  Heaven  denies  this  honour  to  my  hand. 

Nor  shall  my  father  repossess  the  land: 

The  father’s  fortune  never  to  return. 

And  the  sad  son’s  to  suffer  and  to  mourn.” 

Thus  he;  and  Nestor  took  the  word:  “My  son. 

Is  it  then  true,  as  distant  rumours  run. 

That  crowds  of  rivals,  for  thy  mother’s  charms,  2G0 
Thy  palace  fill  with  insults  and  alarms? 

Say,  is  the  fault,  through  tame  submission,  thine? 

Or,  leagued  against  thee,  do  thy  people  join. 

Moved  by  some  oracle,  or  voice  divine? 

And  yet  who  knows,  but  ripening  lies  in  fate 
An  hour  of  vengeance  for  th’  afflicted  state ; 

When  great  Ulysses  shall  suppress  these  harms, 

Ulysses  singly,  or  all  Greece  in  arms. 

But  if  Athena,  war’s  triumphant  maid. 

The  happy  son  will,  as  the  father,  aid,  270 

(Whose  fame  and  safety  was  her  constant  care 
In  every  danger  and  in  every  war: 

Never  on  man  did  heavenly  favour  shine 
With  rays  so  strong,  distinguish’d,  and  divine. 

As  those  with  which  Minerva  mark’d  thy  sire,) 

So  might  she  love  thee,  so  thy  soul  inspire ! 

Soon  should  their  hopes  in  humble  dust  be  laid. 

And  long  oblivion  of  the  bridal-bed.” 

“Ah!  no  such  hope,”  the  prince  with  sighs  replies, 

“Can  touch  my  breast;  that  blessing  Heaven  denies.  280 
Ev’n  by  celestial  favour  were  it  given. 

Fortune  or  fate  would  cross  the  will  of  Heaven.” 

“What  words  are  these,  and  what  imprudence  thine?” 
(Thus  interposed  the  martial  maid  divine.) 

“Forgetful  youth!  but  know,  the  Power  above 
With  ease  can  save  each  object  of  his  love: 

Wide  as  his  will,  extends  his  boundless  grace; 

Nor  lost  in  time,  nor  circumscribed  by  place. 

Happier  his  lot,  who,  many  sorrows  past. 

Long  labouring,  gains  his  natal  shore  at  last ; 


290 


I 


48  THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  III. 

Than  who,  too  speedy,  hastes  to  end  his  life 
By  some  stern  ruffian,  or  adulterous  wife. 

Death  only  is  the  lot  which  none  can  miss, 

And  all  is  possible  to  Heaven,  but  this. 

The  best,  the  dearest  favourite  of  the  sky 
Must  taste  that  cup,  for  man  is  born  to  die.’’ 

Thus  check’d,  replied  Ulysses’  prudent  heir: 

‘‘Mentor,  no  more:  the  mournful  thought  forbear; 

For  he  no  more  must  draw  his  country’s  breath. 

Already  snatch’d  by  fate,  and  the  black  doom  of  death !  300 
Pass  we  to  other  subjects;  and  engage 
On  themes  remote  the  venerable  sage, 

(Who  thrice  has  seen  the  perishable  kind 
Of  men  decay,  and  through  three  ages  shined 
Like  gods  majestic,  and  like  gods  in  mind ; 

For  much  he  knows,  and  just  conclusions  draws 
From  various  precedents,  and  various  laws. 

Oh,  son  of  Neleus!  awful  Nestor,  tell 
How  he,  the  mighty  Agamemnon,  fell ; 

By  what  strange  fraud  jFgysthus  wrought,  relate,  310 
(By  force  he  could  not,)  such  a  hero’s  fate  ? 

Lived  Menelaiis  not  in  Greece?  or  where 
Was  then  the  martial  brother’s  pious  care? 

Condemn’d  perhaps  some  foreign  shore  to  tread; 

Or  sure  iEgysthus  had  not  dared  the  deed.” 

To  whom  the  full  of  days:  “Illustrious  youth, 

Attend  (though  partly  thou  hast  guess’d)  the  truth. 

For  had  the  martial  Menelaiis  found 
The  ruffian  breathing  yet  on  Argive  ground, 

Nor  earth  had  hid  his  carcase  from  the  skies,  320 

Nor  Grecian  virgins  shriek’d  his  obsequies; 

But  fowls  obscene  dismember’d  his  remains, 

And  dogs  had  torn  him  on  the  naked  plains. 

While  us  the  works  of  bloody  Mars  employ’d. 

The  wanton  youth  inglorious  peace  enjoy’d ; 

He,  stretch’d  at  ease  in  Argos’  calm  recess, 

(Whose  stately  steeds  luxuriant  pastures  bless,) 

With  flattery’s  insinuating  art 

Sooth’d  the  frail  queen,  and  poison’d  all  her  heart. 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  III. 


49 


At  first,  with  worthy  shame  and  decent  pride,  330 

The  royal  dame  his  lawless  suit  denied: 

For  virtue’s  image  yet  possess’d  her  mind, 

Taught  by  a  master  of  the  tuneful  kind: 

Atrides,  parting  for  the  Trojan  war. 

Consign’d  the  youthful  consort  to  his  care. 

True  to  his  charge,  the  bard  preserved  her  long 
In  honour’s  limits;  such  the  power  of  song. 

But  when  the  gods  these  objects  of  their  hate 
Dragg’d  to  destruction  by  the  links  of  fate; 

The  bard  they  banish’d  from  his  native  soil,  340 

And  left  all  helpless  in  a  desert  isle: 

There  he,  the  sweetest  of  the  sacred  train. 

Sung,  dying,  to  the  rocks ;  but  sung  in  vain. 

!  Then  virtue  was  no  more  ;  her  guard  away, 

She  fell,  to  lust  a  voluntary  prey. 

Ev’n  to  the  temple  stalk’d  th’  adulterous  spouse. 

With  impious  thanks,  and  mockery  of  vows, 
j  With  images,  with  garments,  and  with  gold; 

And  odorous  fumes  from  loaded  altars  roll’d. 

Meantime,  from  flaming  Troy  we  cut  the  way,  350 

With  Menelaiis,  through  the  curling  sea. 

But  when  to  Sunium’s  sacred  point  we  came. 

Crown’d  with  the  temple  of  th’  Athenian  dame ; 

Atrides’  pilot,  Phrontes,  there  expired: 

(Phrontes,  of  all  the  sons  of  men  admired 
To  steer  the  bounding  bark  with  steady  toil. 

When  the  storm  thickens,  and  the  billows  boil ;) 

While  yet  he  exercised  the  steersman’s  art, 

Apollo  touch’d  him  with  his  gentle  dart ; 

Ev’n  with  the  rudder  in  his  hand,  he  fell ;  360 

To  pay  whose  honours  to  the  shades  of  hell. 

We  check’d  our  haste,  by  pious  office  bound. 

And  laid  our  old  companion  in  the  ground. 

And  now,  the  rites  discharged,  our  course  we  keep 
Far  on  the  gloomy  bosom  of  the  deep: 

Soon  as  Malsea’s  misty  tops  arise. 

Sudden  the  Thunderer  blackens  all  the  skies, 

3  D 


50 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  III. 


And.  the  winds  whistle,  and  the  surges  roll 
Mountains  on  mountains,  and  obscure  the  pole. 

The  tempest  scatters,  and  divides  our  fleet;  370 

Part,  the  storm  urges  on  the  coast  of  Crete, 

Where,  winding  round  the  rich  Cydonian  plain, 

The  streams  of  Jardan  issue  to  the  main. 

There  stands  a  rock,  high,  eminent,  and  steep, 

Whose  shaggy  brow  overhangs  the  shady  deep, 

And  views  Gortyna  on  the  western  side; 

On  this  rough  Auster  drove  th’  impetuous  tide; 

W^ith  broken  force  the  billows  roll’d  away. 

And  heaved  the  fleet  into  the  neighbouring  bay. 

Thus  saved  from  death,  they  gain’d  the  Phsestan  shoies,  380 
With  shatter’d  vessels  and  disabled  oars : 

But  five  tall  barks  the  winds  and  waters  tost, 

Far  from  their  fellows,  on  th’  ^Fgyptian  coast. 

There  wander’d  Menelaus  through  foreign  shores. 
Amassing  gold,  and  gathering  naval  stores ; 

While  cursed  jFgysthus  the  detested  deed 
By  fraud  fulfill’d,  and  his  great  brother  bled. 

Seven  years,  the  traitor  rich  Mycenae  sway  d. 

And  his  stern  rule  the  groaning  land  obey’d; 

The  eighth,  from  Athens  to  his  realm  restored,  390 

Orestes  brandish’d  the  revenging  sword. 


Slew  the  dire  pair,  and  gave  to  funeral  flam© 

The  vile  assassin  and  adulterous  dame. 

That  day,  ere  yet  the  bloody  triumphs  cease. 
Return’d  Atrides  to  the  coast  of  Greece, 

And  safe  to  Argos’  port  his  navy  brought. 

With  gifts  of  price  and  ponderous  treasure  fraught. 
Hence  warn’d,  my  son,  beware !  nor  idly  stand 
Too  long  a  stranger  to  thy  native  land; 

Lest  heedless  absence  wear  thy  wealth  away. 
While  lawless  feasters  in  thy  palace  sway ; 


Perhaps  may  seize  thy  realm,  and  share  the  spoil ; 
And  thou  return,  w'ith  disappointed  toil. 

From  thy  vain  journey,  to  a  rifled  isle. 

Howe’er,  my  friend,  indulge  one  labour  more. 
And  seek  Atrides  on  the  Spartan  shore. 


51 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  III. 

He,  wandering  long,  a  wider  circle  made. 

And  many-languaged  nations  has  survey’d; 

And  measured  tracks  unknown  to  other  ships 
Amid  the  monstrous  wonders  of  the  deeps;  410 

(A  length  of  ocean  and  unbounded  sky. 

Which  -scarce  the  sea-fowl  in  a  year  o’erfly :) 

Go,  then ;  to  Sparta  take  the  watery  way. 

Thy  ship  and  sailors  but  for  orders  stay; 

Or,  if  by  land  thou  choose  thy  course  to  bend. 

My  steeds,  my  chariots,  and  my  sons,  attend: 

Thee  to  Atrides  they  shall  safe  convey, 

Guides  of  thy  road,  companions  of  thy  way. 

Urge  him  with  truth  to  frame  his  free  replies. 

And  sure  he  will:  for  Menelaus  is  wise.”  420 

Thus  while  he  speaks,  the  ruddy  sun  descends. 

And  twilight  gray  her  evening  shade  extends. 

Then  thus  the  blue-eyed  maid:  “Oh,  full  of  days! 

Wise  are  thy  words,  and  just  are  all  thy  ways. 

Now  immolate  the  tongues,  and  mix  the  wine. 

Sacred  to  Neptune  and  the  powers  divine. 

The  lamp  of  day  is  quench’d  beneath  the  deep. 

And  soft  approach  the  balmy  hours  of  sleep: 

Nor  fits  it  to  prolong  the  heavenly  feast. 

Timeless,  indecent,  but  retire  to  rest.”  430 

So  spake  J ove’s  daughter,  the  celestial  maid. 

The  sober  train  attended  and  obey’d. 

The  sacred  heralds  on  their  hands  around 
Pour’d  the  full  urns;  the  youths  the  goblets  crown’d: 

From  bowl  to  bowl  the  holy  beverage  flows; 

While  to  the  final  sacrifice  they  rose. 

The  tongues  they  cast  upon  the  fragrant  flame. 

And  pour,  above,  the  consecrated  stream. 

And  now,  their  thirst  by  copious  draughts  allay’d. 

The  youthful  hero  and  th’  Athenian  maid  440 

Propose  departure  from  the  finish’d  rite. 

And  in  their  hollow  bark  to  pass  the  night: 

But  this  the  hospitable  sage  denied. 

“Forbid  it  Jove,  and  all  the  gods!”  he  cried. 


62 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  III. 


“Thus  from  my  walls  the  much-loved  son  to  send 
Of  such  a  hero  and  of  such  a  friend ! 

Me,  as  some  needy  peasant,  would  you  leave. 

Whom  Heaven  denies  the  blessing  to  relieve? 

Me  would  you  leave,  who  boast  imperial  sway, 

When  beds  of  royal  state  invite  your  stay?  *  450 

No:  long  as  life  this  mortal  shall  inspire, 

Or  as  my  children  imitate  their  sire. 

Here  shall  the  wandering  stranger  find  his  home. 

And  hospitable  rites  adorn  the  dome.” 

“Well  hast  thou  spoke,”  the  blue-eyed  maid  replies, 
Beloved  old  man!  benevolent  as  wise. 

Be  the  kind  dictates  of  thy  heart  obey’d. 

And  let  thy  words  Telemachus  persuade: 

He  to  thy  palace  shall  thy  steps  pursue ; 

I  to  the  ships,  to  give  the  orders  due,  460 

Prescribe  directions,  and  confirm  the  crew. 

For  I  alone  sustain  their  naval  cares. 

Who  boast  experience  from  these  silver  hairs; 

All  youths  the  rest,  whom  to  this  journey  move 
Like  years,  like  tempers,  and  their  prince’s  love. 

There  in  the  vessel  shall  I  pass  the  night; 

And  soon  as  morning  paints  the  fields  of  light, 

I  go  to  challenge  from  the  Caucon’s  bold, 

A  debt,  contracted  in  the  days  of  old. 

But  this  thy  guest,  received  with  friendly  care,  470 

Let  thy  strong  coursers  swift  to  Sparta  bear: 

Prepare  thy  chariot  at  the  dawn  of  day, 

And  be  thy  son  companion  of  his  way.” 

Then,  turning  with  the  word,  Minerva  flies. 

And  soars  an  eagle  through  the  liquid  skies. 

Vision  divine !  the  throng’d  spectators  gaze 
In  holy  wonder  fix’d,  and  still  amaze. 

But  chief  the  reverend  sage  admired;  he  took 
The  hand  of  young  Telemachus,  and  spoke: 

“Oh,  happy  youth!  and  favour’d  of  the  skies,  480 
Distinguish’d  care  of  guardian  deities ! 

Whose  early  years  for  future  worth  engage, 

No  vulgar  manhood,  no  ignoble  age. 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  III. 


53 


For,  lo !  none  other  of  the  court  above 
Than  she,  the  daughter  of  almighty  Jove, 

Pallas  herself,  the  war-triumphant  maid. 

Confess’d  is  thine,  as  once  thy  father’s  aid. 

So  guide  me,  goddess !  so  propitious  shine 
On  me,  my  consort,  and  my  royal  line ! 

A  yearling  bullock  to  thy  name  shall  smoke,  ' 
Untamed,  unconscious  of  the  galling  yoke. 

With  ample  forehead,  and  yet  tender  horns. 

Whose  budding  honours  ductile  gold  adorns.” 

Submissive  thus  the  hoary  sire  preferr’d 
His  holy  vow:  the  favouring  goddess  heard. 

Then,  slowly  rising,  o’er  the  sandy  space 
Precedes  the  father,  follow’d  by  his  race, 

(A  long  procession,)  timely  marching  home 
In  comely  order  to  the  regal  dome. 

There,  when  arrived,  on  thrones  around  him  placed. 
His  sons  and  grandsons  the  wide  circle  graced. 

To  these  the  hospitable  sage,  in  sign 
Of  social  welcome,  mix’d  the  racy  wine 
(Late  from  the  mellowing  cask  restored  to  light. 

By  ten  long  years  refined,  and  rosy  bright). 

To  Pallas  high  the  foaming  bowl  he  crown’d, 

And  sprinkled  large  libations  on  the  ground. 

Each  drinks  a  full  oblivion  of  his  cares. 

And  to  the  gifts  of  balmy  sleep  repairs. 

Deep  in  a  rich  alcove  the  prince  was  laid. 

And  slept  beneath  the  pompous  colonnade: 

Fast  by  his  side  Pisistratus  lay  spread, 

(In  age  his  equal,)  on  a  splendid  bed: 

But  in  an  inner  court,  securely  closed. 

The  reverend  Nestor  and  his  queen  reposed. 

When  now  Aurora,  daughter  of  the  dawn. 

With  rosy  lustre  purpled  o’er  the  lawn; 

The  old  man  early  rose,  walk’d  forth,  and  sate 
On  polish’d  stone  before  his  palace-gate: 

With  unguents  smooth  the  lucid  marble  shone. 
Where  ancient  Neleus  sate,  a  rustic  throne; 


490 


500 


510 


520 


54 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  III. 


But  he  descending  to  th’  infernal  shade, 

Sage  Nestor  fill’d  it,  and  the  sceptre  sway’d. 

His  sons  around  him  mild  obeisance  pay. 

And  duteous  take  the  orders  of  the  day. 

First  Echephron  and  Stratius  quit  their  bed ; 

Then  Perseus,  Aretus,  and  Thrasymed ; 

The  last  Pisistratus  arose  from  rest: 

They  came,  and  near  him  placed  the  stranger-guest. 

To  these  the  senior  thus  declared  his  will:  ‘  530 

“  My  sons !  the  dictates  of  your  sire  fulfil. 

To  Pallas,  first  of  gods,  prepare  the  feast. 

Who  graced  our  rites,  a  more  than  mortal  guest. 

Let  one,  dispatchful,  bid  some  swain  to  lead 
A  well-fed  bullock  from  the  grassy  mead ; 

One  seek  the  harbour,  where  the  vessels  moor. 

And  bring  thy  friends,  Telemachus,  ashore : 

(Leave  only  two  the  galley  to  attend ;) 

Another  to  Laerceus  must  we  send. 

Artist  divine,  whose  skilful  hands  infold  540 

The  victim’s  horn  with  circumfusile  gold. 

The  rest  may  here  the  pious  duty  share. 

And  bid  the  handmaids  for  the  feast  prepare. 

The  seats  to  range,  the  fragrant  wood  to  bring, 

And  limpid  waters  from  the  living  spring.” 

He  said;  and  busy  each  his  care  bestow’d: 

Already  at  the  gates  the  bullock  low’d, 

Already  came  the  Ithacensian  crew. 

The  dextrous  smith  the  tools  already  drew: 

His  ponderous  hammer  and  his  anvil  sound,  550 

And  the  strong  tongs  to  turn  the  metal  round. 

Nor  was  Minerva  absent  from  the  rite. 

She  view’d  her  honours,  and  enjoy’d  the  sight; 

With  reverend  hand  the  king  presents  the  gold. 

Which  round  th’  intorted  horns  the  gilder  roll’d, 

So  wrought,  as  Pallas  might  with  pride  behold. 

Young  Aretus  from  forth  his  bridal-bower 
Brought  the  full  laver  o’er  their  hands  to  pour, 

And  canister’s  of  consecrated  flour. 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  III. 


55 


Stratius  and  Echephron  the  victim  led:  560 

The  axe  v^as  held  by  warlike  Thrasymed, 

In  act  to  strike:  before  him  Perseus  stood, 

The  vase  extending  to  receive  the  blood. 

The  king  himself  initiates  to  the  power; 

Scatters  with  quivering  hand  the  sacred  flour, 

And  the  stream  sprinkles:  from  the  curling  brows 
The  hair  collected  in  the  fire  he  throws. 

Soon  as  due  vows  on  every  part  were  paid. 

And  sacred  wheat  upon  the  victim  laid. 

Strong  Thrasymed  discharged  the  speeding  blow  570 
Full  on  his  neck,  and  cut  the  nerves  in  two. 

Down  sunk  the  heavy  beast ;  the  females  round. 

Maids,  wives,  and  matrons,  mix  a  shrilling  sound. 

Nor  scorned  the  queen  the  holy  choir  to  join; 

(The  first-born  she,  of  old  Clymenus’  line ; 

In  youth  by  Nestor  loved,  of  spotless  fame. 

And  loved  in  age,  Eurydic4  her  name.) 

From  earth  they  rear  him,  struggling  now  with  death; 
And  Nestor’s  youngest  stops  the  vents  of  breath. 

The  soul  for  ever  flies:  on  all  sides  round  580 

Streams  the  black  blood,  and  smokes  upon  the  ground. 
The  beast  they  then  divide,  and  disunite 
The  ribs  and  limbs,  observant  of  the  rite: 

On  these,  in  double  cawls  involved  with  art. 

The  choicest  morsels  lay  from  every  part. 

The  sacred  sage  before  his  altar  stands. 

Turns  the  burnt-offering  with  his  holy  hands. 

And  pours  the  wine,  and  bids  the  flames  aspire ; 

The  youth  with  instruments  surround  the  fire. 

The  thighs  now  sacrificed,  and  entrails  dress’d,  590 

Th’  assistants  pa-i't,  transfix,  and  broil  the  rest. 

While  these  officious  tend  the  rites  divine. 

The  last  fair  branch  of  the  Nestorian  line. 

Sweet  Polycast^,  took  the  pleasing  toil 
To  bathe  the  prince,  and  pour  the  fragrant  oil. 

O’er  his  fair  limbs  a  flowery  vest  he  threw. 

And  issued,  like  a  god,  to  mortal  view. 


56 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  III. 


His  former  seat  beside  the  king  he  found 
(His  people’s  father,  with  his  peers  around); 

All  placed  at  ease  the  holy  banquet  join,  600 

And  in  the  dazzling  goblet  laughs  the  wine. 

The  rage  of  thirst  and  hunger  now  suppress’d. 

The  monarch  turns  him  to  his  royal  guest; 

And  for  the  promised  journey  bids  prepare 
The  smooth-hair’d  horses  and  the  rapid  car. 

Observant  of  his  word,  the  word  scarce  spoke. 

The  sons  obey,  and  join  them  to  the  yoke. 

Then  bread  and  wine  a  ready  handmaid  brings, 

And  presents,  such  as  suit  the  state  of  kings. 

The  glittering  seat  Telemachus  ascends;  610 

His  faithful  guide  Pisistratus  attends; 

With  hasty  hand  the  ruling  reins  he  drew: 

He  lash’d  the  coursers,  and  the  coursers  flew. 

Beneath  the  bounding  yoke  alike  they  held 
Their  equal  pace,  and  smoked  along  the  field. 

The  towers  of  Pylos  sink,  its  views  decay. 

Fields  after  fields  fly  back  till  close  of  day: 

Then  sunk  the  sun,  and  darken’d  all  the  way. 

To  Pherse  now,  Diocleus’  stately  seat, 

(Of  Alpheus’  race,)  the  weary  youths  retreat.  620 

His  house  afibrds  the  hospitable  rite. 

And  pleased  they  sleep  (the  blessing  of  the  night). 

But  when  Aurora,  daughter  of  the  dawn. 

With  rosy  lustre  purpled  o’er  the  lawn. 

Again  they  mount,  their  journey  to  renew. 

And  from  the  sounding  portico  they  flew. 

Along  the  waving  fields  their  way  they  hold. 

The  fields  receding  as  their  chariot  roll’d: 

Then  slowly  sunk  the  ruddy  globe  of  light. 

And  o’er  the  shaded  landscape  rush’d  the  night. 


630 


BOOK  IV. 

The  Conference  of  Telemachus  with  Menelaus. 


Argument. — Telemachus  with  Prsistratus  “arriving-  at  Sparta,  is  hospitably 
received  by  Menelaus^  to  whom  he  relates  the  cause  of  his  coming-,  and 
learns  from  him  many  particulars  of  what  befel  the  Greeks  since  the 
destruction  of  Troy.  He  dwells  at  larg-e  upon  the  prophecies  of  Proteus 
to  him  in  his  return ;  from  which  he  acquaints  Telemachus,  that  Ulysses 
is  detained  in  the  island  of  Calypso. 

In  the  mean  time,  the  suitors  consult  to  destroy  Telemachus  in  his  voyag-e 
home.  Penelop^  is  apprised  of  this;  but  is  comforted  in  a  dream  by 
Pallas,  in  the  shape  of  her  sister  Iphthimb. 

And  now  proud  Sparta  with  their  wheels  resounds, 
Sparta,  whose  walls  a  range  of  hills  surrounds: 

At  the  fair  dome  the  rapid  labour  ends ; 

Where  sate  Atrides  ’midst  his  bridal  friends. 

With  double  vows  invoking  Hymen’s  power. 

To  bless  his  son’s  and  daughter’s  nuptial  hour. 

That  day,  to  great  Achilles’  son  resign’d, 

Hermion^,  the  fairest  of  her  kind. 

Was  sent  to  crown  the  long-protracted  joy. 

Espoused  before  the  final  doom  of  Troy:  10 

With  steeds  and  gilded  cars,  a  gorgeous  train 
Attend  the  nymph  to  Phthia’s  distant  reign. 

Meanwhile,  at  home,  to  Megapenthes’  bed 
The  virgin-choir  Alector’s  daughter  led. 

Brave  Megapenthes,  from  a  stol’n  amour 
To  great  Atrides’  age’ his  handmaid  bore: 

To  Helen’s  bed  the  gods  alone  assign 
Hermion^,  t’  extend  the  regal  line ; 

On  whom  a  radiant  pomp  of  graces  wait. 

Resembling  Venus  in  attractive  state.  20 

While  this  gay  friendly  troop  the  king  surround, 

With  festival  and  mirth  the  roofs  resound: 

3* 


68 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  IV. 


A  bard  amid  the  joyous  circle  sings 
High  airs,  attemper’d  to  the  vocal  strings: 

While,  warbling  to  the  varied  strain,  advance 
Two  sprightly  youths  to  form  the  bounding  dance. 

’Twas  then  that,  issuing  through  the  palace-gate. 

The  splendid  car  roll’d  slow  in  regal  state: 

On  the  bright  eminence  young  Nestor  shone. 

And  fast  beside  him  great  Ulysses  son:  30 

Grave  Eteoneus  saw  the  pomp  appear. 

And,  speeding,  thus  address’d  the  royal  ear. 

“Two  youths  approach,  whose  semblant  features  prove 
Their  blood  devolving  from  the  source  of  Jove. 

Is  due  reception  deign’d,  or  must  they  bend 
Their  doubtful  course  to  seek  a  distant  friend?” 

“  Insensate !”  with  a  sigh  the  king  replies, 

“Too  long,  misjudging,  have  I  thought  thee  wise: 

But  sure  relentless  folly  steels  thy  breast. 

Obdurate  to  reject  the  stranger-guest;  40 

To  those  dear  hospitable  rites  a  foe. 

Which  in  my  wanderings  oft  relieved  my  wo; 

Fed  by  the  bounty  of  another’s  board. 

Till  pitying  Jove  my  native  realm  restored. 

Straight  be  the  coursers  from  the  car  leleased. 

Conduct  the  youth  to  grace  the  genial  feast.” 

The  seneschal,  rebuked,  in  haste  withdrew; 

With  equal  haste  a  menial  train  pursue: 

Part  led  the  coursers,  from  the  car  enlarged. 

Each  to  a  crib  with  choicest  grain  surcharged;  5( 

Part  in  a  portico,  profusely  graced 

W^ith  rich  magnificence,  the  chariot  placed: 

Then  to  the  dome  the  friendly  pair  invite' 

Who  eye  the  dazzling  roofs  with  vast  delight; 
Resplendent  as  the  blaze  of  summer-noon. 

Or  the  pale  radiance  of  the  midnight-moon. 

From  room  to  room  their  eager  view  they  bend; 

Thence  to  the  bath,  a  beauteous  pile,  descend; 

Where  a  bright  damsel-train  attends  the  guests 

With  liquid  odours,  and  embroider’d  vests.  6i 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  IV. 


59 


Refresh’d,  they  wait  them  to  the  bower  of  state, 

Where  circled  with  his  peers  Atrides  sate: 

Throned  next  the  king,  a  fair  attendant  brings 
The  purest  product  of  the  crystal  springs; 

High  on  a  massy  vase  of  silver  mould. 

The  burnish’d  laver  flames  with  solid  gold; 

In  solid  gold  the  purple  vintage  flows. 

And  on  the  board  a  second  banquet  rose. 

When  thus  the  king  with  hospitable  port: 

“Accept  this  welcome  to  the  Spartan  court;  70 

The  waste  of  nature  let  the  feast  repair, 

Then  your  high  lineage  and  your  names  declare: 

Say  from  what  sceptred  ancestry  ye  claim. 

Recorded  eminent  in  deathless  fame? 

For  vulgar  parents  cannot  stamp  their  race 
With  signatures  of  such  majestic  grace.” 

Ceasing,  benevolent  he  straight  assigns 
The  royal  portion  of  the  choicest  chines 
To  each  accepted  friend :  with  grateful  haste 
They  share  the  honours  of  the  rich  repast.  80 

Sufficed,  soft  whispering  thus  to  Nestor’s  son. 

His  head  reclined,  young  Ithacus  begun: 

“View’st  thou  unmoved,  oh,  ever-honour’d  most! 

These  prodigies  of  art,  and  wondrous  cost  1 
Above,  beneath,  around  the  palace  shines 
The  sumless  treasure  of  exhausted  mines; 

The  spoils  of  elephants  the  roofs  inlay. 

And  studded  amber  darts  a  golden  ray: 

Such,  and  not  nobler,  in  the  realms  above. 

My  wonder  dictates,  is  the  dome  of  Jove.”  90 

The  monarch  took  the  word,  and  grave  replied: 
“Presumptuous  are  the  vaunts,  and  vain  the  pride 
Of  man,  who  dares  in  pomp  with  Jove  contest. 
Unchanged,  immortal,  and  supremely  bless’d! 

With  all  my  affluence,  when  my  woes  are  weigh’d. 

Envy  will  own  the  purchase  dearly  paid. 

For  eight  slow-circling  years  by  tempests  toss’d. 

From  Cyprus  to  the  far  Phoenician  coast 


60 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  IV. 


(Sidon  the  capital),  I  stretch’d  my  toil 

Through  regions  fatten’d  with  the  flows  of  Nile*  100 

Next,  .Ethiopia’s  utmost  bounds  explore. 

And  the  parch’d  borders  of  th’  Arabian  shore: 

Then  warp  my  voyage  on  the  southern  gales. 

O’er  the  warm  Libyan  wave  to  spread  my  sails : 

That  happy  clime!  where  each  revolving  year 
The  teeming  ewes  a  triple  offspring  bear; 

And  two  fair  crescents  of  translucent  horn 
The  brows  of  all  their  young  increase  adorn ; 

The  shepherd  swains,  with  sure  abundance  bless’d. 

On  the  fat  flock  and  rural  dainties  feast:  110 

Nor  want  of  herbage  makes  the  dairy  fail. 

But  every  season  fills  the  flowing  pail. 

While,  heaping  unwish’d  wealth,  I  distant  roam, 

The  best  of  brothers  at  his  natal  home. 

By  the  dire  fury  of  a  traitress  wife. 

Ends  the  sad  evening  of  a  stormy  life: 

Whence  with  incessant  grief  my  soul  annoy’d. 

These  riches  are  possess’d,  but  not  enjoy’d ; 

My  wars,  the  copious  theme  of  every  tongue. 

To  you,  your  fathers  have  recorded  long;  120 

How  favouring  Heaven  repaid  my  glorious  toils 
With  a  sack’d  palace,  and  barbaric  spoils. 

Oh  I  had  the  gods  so  large  a  boon  denied. 

And  life,  the  just  equivalent,  supplied 
To  those  brave  warriors,  who,  with  glory  fired. 

Far  from  their  country,  in  my  cause  expired  1 
Still  in  short  intervals  of  pleasing  wo. 

Regardless  of  the  friendly  dues  I  owe, 

I  to  the  glorious  dead,  for  ever  dear  1  , 

Indulge  the  tribute  of  a  grateful  tear.  130 

But,  oh!  Ulysses — deeper  than  the  rest 
That  sad  idea  wounds  my  anxious  breast ! 

My  heart  bleeds  fresh  with  agonizing  pain ; 

The  bowl  and  tasteful  viands  tempt  in  vain; 

Nor  sleep’s  soft  power  can  close  my  streaming  eyes, 
When  imaged  to  my  soul  his  sorrows  rise. 


'THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  IV. 


G1 


No  peril  in  my  cause  he  ceased  to  prove, 

His  labours  equaPd  only  by  my  love: 

And  both  alike  to  bitter  fortune  born, 

For  him  to  suffer,  and  for  me  to  mourn!  ^  140 

Whether  he  wanders  on  some  friendly  coast, 

Or  glides  in  Stygian  gloom  a  pensive  ghost, 

No  fame  reveals;  but,  doubtful  of  his  doom. 

His  good  old  sire  with  sorrow  to  the  tomb 
Declines  his  trembling  steps;  untimely  care 
Withers  the  blooming  vigour  of  his  heir ; 

And  the  chaste  partner  of  his  bed  and  throne 
Wastes  all  her  widow’d  hours  in  tender  moan.” 

While  thus  pathetic  to  the  prince  he  spoke. 

From  the  brave  youth  the  streaming  passion  broke:  150 
Studious  to  veil  the  grief,  in  vain  repress’d. 

His  face  he  shrouded  with  his  purple  vest: 

The  conscious  monarch  pierced  the  coy  disguise. 

And  view’d  his  filial  love  with  vast  surprise: 

Dubious  to  press  the  tender  theme,  or  wait 
To  hear  the  youth  inquire  his  father’s  fate. 

In  this  suspense,  bright  Helen  graced  the  room ;  ^ 

Before  her  breathed  a  gale  of  rich  perfume. 

So  moves,  adorn’d  with  each  attractive  grace, 

The  silver-shafted  goddess  of  the  chase.  ^  100 

The  seat  of  majesty  Adrast6  brings. 

With  art  illustrious,  for  the  pomp  of  kings ; 

To  spread  the  pall  (beneath  the  regal  chair) 

Of  softest  wool,  is  bright  Alcippe’s  care. 

A  silver  canister,  divinely  wrought. 

In  her  soft  hands  the  beauteous  Phylo  brought; 

To  Sparta’s  queen  of  old  the  radiant  vase 
Alcandra  gave,  a  pledge  of  royal  grace : 

For  Poly  bus  her  lord  (whose  sovereign  sway 
The  wealthy  tribes  of  Pharian  Thebes  obey),  170 

When  to  that  court  Atrides  came,  caress’d 
With  vast  munificence  th’  imperial  guest; 

Two  lavers,  from  the  richest  ore  refined. 

With  silver  tripods,  the  kind  host  assign’d: 


G2 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  IV. 


And  bounteous  from  the  royal  treasure  told 
Ten  equal  talents  of  refulgent  gold. 

Alcandra,  consort  of  his  high  command, 

A  golden  distaff  gave  to  Helen’s  hand; 

And  that  rich  vase,  with  living  sculpture  wrought, 
Which  heap’d  with  wool  the  beauteous  Phylo  brought 
The  silken  fleece,  impurpled  for  the  loom, 

Rivals  the  hyacinth  in  vernal  bloom. 

The  sovereign  seat  then  Jove-born  Helen  pi  ess  d, 
And,  pleasing,  thus  her  sceptred  lord  address’d :  ^ 
“Who  grace  our  palace  now,  that  friendly  pair. 
Speak  they  their  lineage,  or  their  names  declare? 
Uncertain  of  the  truth,  yet  uncontrol’d. 

Hear  me  the  bodings  of  my  breast  unfold. 

With  wonder  wrapt,  on  yonder  cheek  I  trace 
The  feature  of  the  Ulyssean  race: 

Diffused  o’er  each  resembling  line  appear. 

In  just  similitude,  the  grace  and  air 
Of  young  Telemachus!  the  lovely  boy. 

Who  bless’d  Ulysses  with  a  father’s  joy. 

What  time  the  Greeks  combined  their  social  arms, 
T’  avenge  the  stain  of  my  ill-fated  charms ! 

“Just  is  thy  thought,”  the  king  assenting  cries; 
'‘Methinks  Ulysses  strikes  my  wondering  eyes; 

Full  shines  the  father  in  the  filial  frame. 

His  port,  his  features,  and  his  shape  the  same : 

Such  quick  regards  his  sparkling  eyes  bestow ; 

Such  wavy  ringlets  o’er  his  shoulders  flow. 

And  when  he  heard  the  long,  disastrous  store 
Of  cares,  which  in  my  cause  Ulysses  bore; 
Dismay’d,  heart-wounded  with  paternal  woes. 
Above  restraint  the  tide  of  sorrow  rose: 

Cautious  to  let  the  gushing  grief  appear. 

His  purple  garment  veil’d  the  falling  tear.” 

“See  there  confess’d,”  Pisistratus  replies, 

“  The  genuine  worth  of  Ithacus  the  wise  1 
Of  thdt  heroic  sire  the  youth  is  sprung, 

Bu.  »4iodest  awe  hath  chain’d  his  timorous  tongue. 


:  180 


190 


200 


210 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  IV. 


63 


Thy  voice,  O  king !  with  pleased  attention  heard, 

Is  like  the  dictates  of  a  god  revered. 

With  him  at  Nestor’s  high  command  I  came. 

Whose  age  I  honour  with  a  parent’s  name. 

By  adverse  destiny  constrain’d  to  sue 
For  counsel  and  redress,  he  sues  to  you. 

Whatever  ill  the  friendless  orphan  bears. 

Bereaved  of  parents  in  his  infant  years,  220 

Still  must  the  wrong’d  Telemachus  sustain. 

If,  hopeful  of  your  aid,  he  hopes  in  vain : 

Affianced  in  your  friendly  power  alone. 

The  youth  would  vindicate  the  vacant  throne.” 

“Is  Sparta  bless’d,  and  these  desiring  eyes 
View  my  friend’s  son?”  the  king  exulting  cries; 

“Son  of  my  friend,  by  glorious  toils  approved. 

Whose  sword  was  sacred  to  the  man  he  loved : 

Mirror  of  constant  faith,  revered  and  mourn’d ! — 

When  Troy  was  ruin’d,  had  the  chief  return’d,  230 

No  Greek  an  equal  space  had  a’er  possess’d 
Of  dear  affection  in  my  grateful  breast. 

I,  to  confirm  the  mutual  joys  we  shared. 

For  his  abode  a  capital  prepared: 

Argos  the  seat  of  sovereign  rule  I  chose ; 

Fair  in  the  plan  the  future  palace  rose. 

Where  my  Ulysses  and  his  race  might  reign. 

And  portion  to  his  tribes  the  wide  domain. 

To  them  my  vassals  had  resign’d  a  soil. 

With  teeming  plenty  to  reward  their  toil.  240 

There  with  commutual  zeal  we  both  had  strove 
In  acts  of  dear  benevolence  and  love: 

Brothers  in  peace,  not  rivals  in  command. 

And  death  alone  dissolved  the  friendly  band! 

Some  envious  power  the  blissful  scene  destroys: 

Vanish’d  are  all  the  visionary  joys; 

The  soul  of  friendship  to  my  hope  is  lost. 

Fated  to  wander  from  his  natal  coast!” 

He  ceased;  a  gust  of  grief  began  to  rise: 

Fast  stream’d  a  tide  from  beauteous  Helen’s  eyes; 


250 


64 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  IV. 


Fast  for  the  sire  the  filial  sorrows  flow ; 

The  weeping  monarch  swells  the  mighty  wo: 

Thy  cheeks,  Pisistratus,  the  tears  bedew, 

While  pictured  to  thy  mind  appear’d  in  view 
Thy  martial  brother:*  on  the  Phrygian  plain 
Extended  pale,  by  swarthy  Memnon  slain  1 
But  silence  soon  the  son  of  Nestor  broke. 

And,  melting  with  fraternal  pity,  spoke : 

“Frequent,  O  king,  was  Nestor  wont  to  raise 
And  charm  attention  with  thy  copious  praise ;  260 

To  crown  thy  various  gifts,  the  sage  assign’d 
The  glory  of  a  firm,  capacious  mind: 

With  that  superior  atribute,  control 
This  unavailing  impotence  of  soul. 

Let  not  your  roof  with  echoing  grief  resound. 

Now  for  the  feast  the  friendly  bowl  is  crown’d; 

But  when  from  dewy  shade  emerging  bright, 

Aurora  streaks  the  sky  with  orient  light. 

Let  each  deplore  his  dead:  the  rites  of  wo 

Are  all,  alas!  the  living  can  bestow:  276 

O’er  the  congenial  dust  enjoin’d  to  shear 

The  graceful  curl,  and  drop  the  tender  tear. 

Then,  mingling  in  the  mournful  pomp  with  you, 
ril  pay  my  brother’s  ghost  a  warrior’s  due. 

And  mourn  the  brave  Antilochus,  a  name 
Not  unrecorded  in  the  rolls  of  fame: 

With  strength  and  ^peed  superior  form’d,  in  fight 
To  face  the  foe,  or  intercept  his  flight: 

Too  early  snatch’d  by  fate,  ere  known  to  me ! 

I  boast  a  witness  of  his  worth  in  thee.”  280 

“Young  and  mature!”  the  monarch  thus  rejoins, 

“In  thee  renew’d  the  soul  of  Nestor  shines: 

Form’d  by  the  care  of  that  consummate  sage. 

In  early  bloom  an  oracle  of  age. 

Whene’er  his  influence  Jove  vouchsafes  to  shower. 

To  bless  the  natal  and  the  nuptial  hour ; 


*  Antilochia. 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  IV. 

t 

From  the  great  sire  transmissive  to  the  race, 

The  boon  devolving  gives  distinguish’d  grace. 

Such,  happy  Nestor!  was  thy  glorious  doom; 

Around  thee,  full  of  years,  thy  offspring  bloom. 

Expert  of  arms,  and  prudent  in  debate ; 

The  gifts  of  Heaven  to  guard  thy  hoary  state. 

But  now  let  each  becalm  his  troubled  breast. 

Wash,  and  partake,  serene,  the  friendly  feast. 

To  move  thy  suit,  Telemachus,  delay. 

Till  Heaven’s  revolving  lamp  restores  the  day.” 

He  said ;  Asphalion  swift  the  laver  brings ; 

Alternate  all  partake  the  grateful  springs; 

Then  from  the  rites  of  purity  repair. 

And  with  keen  gust  the  savoury  viands  share. 

Meantime,  with  genial  joy  to  warm  the  soul. 

Bright  Helen  mix’d  a  mirth-inspiring  bowl: 

Temper’d  with  drugs  of  sovereign  use,  t’  assuage 
The  boiling  bosom  of  tumultuous  rage; 

To  clear  the  cloudy  front  of  wrinkled  Care, 

And  dry  the  tearful  sluices  of  Despair: 

Charm’d  with  that  virtuous  draught,  th’  exalted  mind 
All  sense  of  wo  delivers  to  the  wind. 

Though  on  the  blazing  pile  his  parent  lay. 

Or  a  loved  brother  groan’d  his  life  away,  310 

Or  darling  son,  oppress’d  by  ruffian  force. 

Fell  breathless  at  his  feet,  a  mangled  corse; 

From  morn  to  eve,  impassive  and  serene. 

The  man  entranced  would  view  the  deathful  scene. 

These  drugs,  so  friendly  to  the  joys  of  life. 

Bright  Helen  learn’d  from  Thone’s  imperial  wife; 

Who  sway’d  the  sceptre  where  prolific  Nile 
With  various  simples  clothes  the  fatten’d  soil. 

With  wholesome  herbage  mix’d,  the  direful  bane 
Of  vegetable  venom  taints  the  plain;  320 

From  Pseon  sprung,  their  patron-god  imparts 
To  all  the  Pharian  race  his  healing  arts. 

The  beverage  now  prepared  t’  inspire  the  feast. 

The  circle  thus  the  beauteous  queen  address’d: 

E 


65 


290 


300 


66 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  IV. 


“Throned  in  omnipotence,  supremest  Jove 
Tempers  the  fates  of  human  race  above; 

By  the  firm  sanction  of  his  sovereign  will, 
Alternate  are  decreed  our  good  and  ill. 

To  feastful  mirth  be  this  white  hour  assign’d, 
And  sweet  discourse,  the  banquet  of  the  mind. 


Myself,  assisting  in  the  social  joy, 

Will  tell  Ulysses’  bold  exploit  in  Troy: 

Sole  witness  of  the  deed  I  now  declare; 

Speak  you  (who  saw)  his  wonders  in  the  war. 

Seam’d  o’er  with  wounds,  which  his  own  sabre  gave, 
In  the  vile  habit  of  a  village-slave. 

The  foe  deceived,  he  pass’d  the  tented  plain, 

In  Troy  to  mingle  with  the  hostile  train. 

In  this  attire,  secure  from  searching  eyes, 

Till  haply  piercing  through  the  dark  disguise 
The  chief  I  challenged;  he,  whose  practised  wit 
Knew  all  the  serpent  mazes  of  deceit. 

Eludes  my  search:  but  when  his  form  I  view’d 
Fresh  from  the  bath  with  fragrant  oils  renew’d. 

His  limbs  in  military  purple  dress’d. 

Each  brightening  grace  the  genuine  Greek  confess  d. 
A  previous  pledge  of  sacred  faith  obtain  d, 

Till  he  the  lines  and  Argive  fleet  regain’d. 

To  keep  his  stay  conceal’d;  the  chief  declared 
The  plans  of  war  against  the  town  prepared. 
Exploring  then  the  secrets  of  the  state, 

He  learn’d  what  best  might  urge  the  Dardan  fate: 
And,  safe  returning  to  the  Grecian  host, 

Sent  many  a  shade  to  Pluto’s  dreary  coast. 

Loud  grief  resounded  through  the  towers  of  Troy, 
But  my  pleased  bosom  glow’d  with  secret  joy: 

For  then,  with  dire  remorse  and  conscious  shame, 

I  view’d  th’  effects  of  that  disastrous  flame. 

Which,  kindled  by  th’  imperious  queen  of  love. 
Constrain’d  me  from  my  native  realm  to  rove: 

And  oft,  in  bitterness  of  soul,  deplored 
My  absent  daughter,  and  my  dearer  lord; 


340 


350 


360 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  IV. 


67 


Admired  among  the  first  of  human  race, 

For  every  gift  of  mind  and  manly  grace.” 

“Right  well,”  replied  the  king,  “your  speech  displays 
The  matchless  merit  of  the  chief  you  praise: 

Heroes  m  various  climes  myself  have  found. 

For  martial  deeds  and  depth  of  thought  renowned; 

But  Ithacus,  unrival’d  in  his  claim'. 

May  boast  a  title  to  the  loudest  fame:  370 

In  battle  calm,  he  guides  the  rapid  storm, 

Wise  to  resolve,  and  patient  to  perform. 

What  wondrous  conduct  in  the  chief  appear’d, 

When  the  vast  fabric  of  the  steed  we  rear’d ! 

Some  demon,  anxious  for  the  Trojan  doom. 

Urged  you  with  great  Deiphobus  to  come, 

T’  explore  the  fraud ;  with  guile  opposed  to  guile. 
Slow-pacing  thrice  around  th’  insidious  pile; 

Each  noted  leader’s  name  you  thrice  invoke. 

Your  accent  varying  as  their  spouses  spoke:  ■  380 

The  pleasing  sounds  each  latent  warrior  warm’d. 

But  most  Tydides’  and  my  heart  alarm’d: 

To  quit  the  steed  we  both  impatient  press. 

Threatening  to  answer  from  the  dark  recess. 

Unmoved  the  mind  of  Ithacus  remain’d; 

And  the  vain  ardour  of  our  love  restrain’d: 

But  Anticlus,  unable  to  control. 

Spoke  loud  the  language  of  his  yearning  soul: 

Ulysses  straight,  with  indignation  fired, 

(For  so  the  common  care  of  Greece  required,)  390 

Firm  to  his  lips  his  forceful  hand  applied. 

Till  on  his  tongue  the  fluttering  murmurs  died. 

Meantime,  Minerva,  from  the  fraudful  horse. 

Back  to  the  court  of  Priam  bent  your  course.” 

“Inclement  fate!”  Telemachus  replies; 

“Frail  is  the  boasted  attribute  of  wise: 

The  leader,  mingling  with  the  vulgar  host. 

Is  in  the  common  mass  of  matter  lost  1 
But  now  let  sleep  the  painful  waste  repair 
I'  Of  sad  reflection,  and  corroding  care.” 


400 


68 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  IV. 


He  ceased ;  the  menial  fair  that  round  her  wait, 

At  Helen’s  beck  prepare  the  room  of  state; 

Beneath  an  ample  portico,  they  spread 

The  downy  fleece,  to  form  the  slumberous  bed ; 

And  o’er  soft  palls  of  purple  grain,  unfold 
Rich  tapestry,  stiff  with  inwoven  gold: 

Then  through  th’  illumined  dome,  to  balmy  rest 
Th’  obsequious  herald  guides  each  princely  guest; 

While  to  his  regal  bower  the  king  ascends. 

And  beauteous  Helen  on  her  lord  attends.  410 

Soon  as  the  morn,  in  orient  purple  dress’d, 

CJnbarr’d  the  portal  of  the  roseate  east. 

The  monarch  rose ;  magnificent  to  view, 

Th’  imperial  mantle  o’er  his  vest  he  threw: 

The  glittering  zone,  athwart  his  shoulder  cast, 

A  starry  faulchion  low-depending  graced ; 

Clasp’d  on  his  feet  th’  embroider’d  sandals  shine; 

And  forth  he  moves,  majestic  and  divine: 

Instant  to  young  Telemachus  he  press’d. 

And  thus  benevolent  his  speech  address’d:  420 

“Say,  royal  youth,  sincere  of  soul,  report 
What  cause  hath  led  you  to  the  Spartan  court? 

Do  public  or  domestic  cares  constrain 
This  toilsome  voyage  o’er  the  surgy  main?” 

“Oh,  highly-favour’d  delegate  of  Jove!” 

Replied  the  prince,  “inflamed  with  filial  love. 

And  anxious  hope,  to  hear  my  parent’s  doom, 

A  suppliant  to  your  royal  court  I  come. 

Our  sovereign  seat  a  lewd  usurping  race 

With  lawless  riot  and  misrule  disgrace;  430 

To  pamper’d  insolence  devoted  fall 

Prime  of  the  flock,  and  choicest  of  the  stall: 

For  wild  ambition  wings  their  bold  desire. 

And  all  to  mount  th’  imperial  bed  aspire. 

But  prostrate  I  implore,  oh  king  I  relate 
The  mournful  series  of  my  father’s  fate : 

Each  known  disaster  of  the  man  disclose. 

Born  by  his  mother  to  a  world  of  woes  1 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  IV. 


69 


Recite  them;  nor  in  erring  pity  fear 

To  wound  with  storied  grief  the  filial  ear:  440 

If  e’er  Ulysses,  to  reclaim  your  right, 

Avow’d  his  zeal  in  council  or  in  fight, 

If  Phrygian  camps  the  friendly  toils  attest, 

To  the  sire’s  merit  give  the  son’s  request.” 

Deep  from  his  inmost  soul  Atrides  sigh’d, 

And  thus  indignant  to  the  prince  replied: 

“Heavens!  would  a  soft,  inglorious,  dastard  train 
An  absent  hero’s  nuptial  joys  profane  1 
So  with  her  young,  amid  the  woodland  shades, 

A  timorous  hind  the  lion’s  court  invades,  450 

Leaves  in  that  fatal  lair  the  tender  fawns. 

Climbs  the  green  cliff,  or  feeds  the  flowery  lawns : 
Meantime,  return’d,  with  dire  remorseless  sway 
The  monarch-savage  rends  the  trembling  prey. 

With  equal  fury,  and  with  equal  fame,  • 

Ulysses  soon  shall  reassert  his  claim. 

Oh,  Jove  supreme,  whom  gods  and  men  revere! 

And  thou*  to  whom  ’tis  given  to  gild  the  sphere ! 

With  power  congenial  join’d,  propitious  aid 

The  chief  adopted  by  the  martial  maid  I  4G0 

Such  to  our  wish  the  warrior  soon  restore. 

As  when  contending  on  the  Lesbian  shore 
His  prowess  Philomelides  confess’d. 

And  loud-acclaiming  Greeks  the  victor  bless’d : 

Then  soon  th’  invaders  of  his  bed  and  throne 
Their  love  presumptuous  shall  with  life  atone. 

With  patient  ear,  O  royal  youth,  attend 
The  storied  labours  of  thy  father’s  friend: 

Fruitful  of  deeds,  the  copious  tale  is  long. 

But  truth  severe  shall  dictate  to  my  tongue:  470 

Learn  what  I  heard  the  sea-born  seer  relate, 

Whose  eye  can  pierce  the  dark  recess  of  fate: 

I  “Long  on  th’  Egyptian  coast  by  calms  confined, 

!  Heaven  to  my  fleet  refused  a  prosperous  wind: 


I 


♦  Apollo. 


70 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  IV. 


No  vows  had  we  preferr’d,  nor  victim  slain! 

For  this  the  gods  each  favouring  gale  restrain : 
Jealous,  to  see  their  high  behests  obey  d; 

Severe,  if  men  th’  eternal  rights  evade. 

High  o’er  a  gulfy  sea,  the  Pharian  isle 
Fronts  the  deep  roar  of  disemboguing  Nile: 

Her  distance  from  the  shore,  the  course  begun 
At  dawn,  and  ending  with  the  setting  sun, 

A  galley  measures;  when  the  stiffer  gales 
Rise  on  the  poop,  and  fully  stretch  the  sails. 

There,  anchor’d  vessels  safe  in  harbour  lie. 

While  limpid  springs  the  failing  cask  supply. 

And  now  the  twentieth  sun,  descending,  laves 
His  glowing  axle  in  the  western  wavps; 

Still  with  expanded  sails  we  court  in  vain 
Propitious  winds  to  waft  us  o’er  the  main: 

And  the  pale  mariner  at  once  deplores 
His  drooping  vigour  and  exhausted  stores. 

When,  lo  1  a  bright  coerulean  form  appears. 

The  fair  Eidothea !  to  dispel  my  fears ; 

Proteus  her  sire  divine.  With  pity  press  d, 

Me  sole  the  daughter  of  the  deep  address’d; 

What  time,  with  hunger  pined,  my  absent  mates 
Roam  the  wild  isle  in  search  of  rural  cates. 

Bait  the  barb’d  steel,  and  from  the  fishy  flood 
Appease  th’  afflictive,  fierce  desire  of  food. 

“‘Whoe’er  thou  art,’  the  azure  goddess  cries 
‘Thy  conduct  ill  deserves  the  praise  of  wise; 

Is  death  thy  choice,  or  misery  thy  boast, 

That  here  inglorious  on  a  baren  coast 
Thy  brave  associates  droop,  a  meagre  train, 

With  famine  pale,  and  ask  thy  care  in  vain?’ 

“Struck  with  the  kind  reproach,  I  straight  reply: 
‘Whate’er  thy  title  in  thy  native  sky, 

A  goddess  sure  1  for  more  than  mortal  grace 
Speaks  the  descendant  of  ethereal  race: 

Deem  not,  that  here  of  choice  my  fleet  remains ; 
Some  heavenly  power  averse  my  stay  constrains: 


480 


490 


500 


510 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  IV. 


7i 


Oh,  piteous  of  my  fate,  vouchsafe  to  show 
(For  what’s  sequester’d  from  celestial  view?) 

What  power  becalms  th’  innavigable  seas? 

What  guilt  provokes  him,  and  what  vows  appease?’ 

“I  ceased;  when  affable  the  goddess  cried: 

‘Observe,  and  in  the  truths  I  speak  confide: 

Th’  oraculous  seer  frequents  the  Pharian  coast, 

From  whose  high  bed  my  birth  divine  I  boast;  520 

Proteus,  a  name  tremendous  o’er  the  main. 

The  delegate  of  Neptune’s  watery  reign. 

Watch  with  insidious  care  his  known  abode; 

There  fast  in  chains  constrain  the  various  god; 

Who  bound,  obedient  to  superior  force. 

Unerring  will  prescribe  your  destined  course. 

If,  studious  of  your  realms,  you  then  demand 
Their  state,  since  last  you  left  your  natal  land ; 

Instant  the  god  obsequious  will  disclose 
Bright  tracks  of  glory,  or  a  cloud  of  woes.’  530 

“She  ceased;  and  suppliant  thus  I  made  reply: 

‘Oh,  goddess!  on  thy  aid  my  hopes  rely; 

Dictate  propitious  to  my  duteous  ear. 

What  arts  can  captivate  the  changeful  seer ; 

For  perilous  the  assay,  unheard  the  toil, 

T’  elude  the  prescience  of  a  god  by  guile.’ 

“Thus  to  the  goddess  mild  my  suit  I  end. 

Then  she:  ‘Obedient  to  my  rule,  attend: 

When  fhrough  the  zone  of  heaven  the  mounted  sun 
Hath  journey’d  half,  and  half  remains  to  run ;  540 

The  seer,  while  zephyrs  curl  the  swelling  deep. 

Basks  on  the  breezy  shore,  in  grateful  sleep. 

His  oozy  limbs.  Emerging  from  the  wave, 

The  Phocse  swift  surround  his  rocky  cave. 

Frequent  and  full ;  the  consecrated  train 
Of  her*  whose  azure  trident  awes  the  main: 

There  wallowing  warm,  th’  enormous  herd  exhales 
An  oily  steam,  and  taints  the  noon-tide  gales. 


*  Amphitrite. 


72  the  odyssey,  book  IV. 

To  that  recess,  commodious  for  surprise, 

When  purple  light  shall  next  suffuse  the  skies, 

With  me  repair;  and  from  thy  warrior-band 
Three  chosen  chiefs  of  dauntless  soul  command: 
Let  their  auxiliar  force  befriend  the  toil ; 

For  strong  the  god,  and  perfected  in  guile. 

Stretch’d  on  the  shelly  shore,  he  first  surveys 
The  flouncing  herd  ascending  from  the  seas; 

Their  number  summ’d,  reposed  in  sleep  profound, 
The  scaly  charge  their  guardian  god  surround : 

So  with  his  battening  flocks  the  careful  swain 
Abides,  pavilion’d  on  the  grassy  plain. 

With  powers  united,  obstinately  bold 
Invade  him,  couch’d  amid  the  scaly  fold: 

Instant  he  wears,  elusive  of  the  rape, 

The  mimic  force  of  every  savage  shape; 

Or  glides  with  liquid  lapse  a  murmuring  stream, 

Or,  wrapt  in  flame,  he  glows  at  every  limb. 

Yet  still  retentive,  with  redoubled  might, 

Through  each  vain  passive  form  constrain  his  flight. 
But  when,  his  native  shape  resumed,  he  stands 
Patient  of  conquest,  and  your  cause  demands. 

The  cause  that  urged  the  bold  attempt  declare. 

And  soothe  the  vanquish’d  with  a  victor’s  prayer. 
The  bands  relax’d,  implore  the  seer  to  say 
What  godhead  interdicts  the  watery  way? 

Who,  straight  propitious,  in  prophetic  strain  * 
Will  teach  you  to  repass  th’  unmeasured  main.’ 

She  ceased;  and,  bounding  from  the  shelfy  shore. 
Round  the  descending  nymph  the  waves  redounding 
“High  wrapt  in  wonder  of  the  future  deed, 

With  joy  impetuous,  to  the  port  I  speed:  . 

The  wants  of  nature  with  repast  suffice. 

Till  night  with  grateful  shade  involved  the  skies, 

And  shed  ambrosial  dews.  Fast  by  the  deep, 

Along  the  tented  shore,  in  balmy  sleep, 

Our  cares  were  lost.  When  o’er  the  eastern  lawn, 
In  saffron  robes,  the  daughter  of  the  dawn 


550 


560 


570 


roar. 

580 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  IV. 


73 


Advanced  her  rosy  steps ;  before  the  bay, 

Due  ritual  honours  to  the  gods  I  pay; 

Then  seek  the  place  the  sea-born  nymph  assign’d, 
With  three  associates  of  undaunted  mind. 
Arrived,  to  form  along  th’  appointed  strand 
For  each  a  bed,  she  scoops  the  hilly  sand; 

Then,  from  her  azure  car  the  finny  spoils 
Of  four  vast  Phocse  takes  to  veil  her  wiles; 
Beneath  the  finny  spoils,  extended  prone. 

Hard  toil !  the  prophet’s  piercing  eye  to  shun ; 
New  from  the  corse,  the  scaly  frauds  diffuse 
Unsavoury  stench  of  oil,  and  brackish  ooze; 

But  the  bright  sea-maid’s  gentle  power  implored. 
With  nectar’d  drops  the  sickening  sense  restored. 

“Thus  till  the  sun  had  travel’d  half  the  skies, 
Ambush’d  we  lie,  and  wait  the  bold  emprise; 
When,  thronging  quick  to  bask  in  open  air. 

The  ffocks  of  Ocean  to  the  strand  repair: 

Couch’d  on  the  sunny  sand,  the  monsters  sleep: 
Then  Proteus,  mounting  from  the  hoary  deep. 
Surveys  his  charge,  unknowing  of  deceit: 

(In  order  told,  we  make'  the  sum  complete:) 
Pleased  with  the  false  review,  secure  he  lies. 

And  leaden  slumbers  press  his  drooping  eyes. 
Rushing  impetuous  forth,  we  straight  prepare 
A  furious  onset  with  the  sound  of  war. 

And  shouting  seize  the  god:  our  force  t’  evade, 
His  various  arts  he  soon  resumes  in  aid: 

A  lion  now,  he  curls  a  surgy  mane ; 

Sudden,  our  bands  a  spotted  pard  restrain; 

Then,  arm’d  with  tusks,  and  lightning  in  his  eyes, 
A  boar’s  obscener  shape  the  god  belies: 

On  spiry  volumes,  there,  a  dragon  rides : 

Here,  from  our  strict  embrace  a  stream  he  glides ; 
And  last,  sublime  his  stately  growth  he  rears, 

A  tree,  and  well-dissembfed  foliage  wears. 

Vain  efforts!  with  superior  power  compress’d. 

Me  with  reluctance  thus  the  seer  address’d: 

4 


590 


fiOO 


010 


620 


74 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  IV. 


*Say,  son  of  Atreus,  say  what  god  inspired 
This  daring  fraud,  and  what  the  boon  desired?’ 

“I  thus:  ‘O  thou,  whose  certain  eye  forsees 
The  fix’d  event  of  Fate’s  remote  decrees; 

After  long  woes,  and  various  toils  endured, 

Still  on  this  desert  isle  my  fleet  is  moor’d; 
Unfriended  of  the  gales.  All-knowing !  say. 

What  godhead  interdicts  the  watery  way? 

What  vows  repentant  will  the  power  appease. 

To  speed  a  prosperous  voyage  o’er  the  seas?’ 

“‘To  Jove,’  (with  stern  regard  the  god  replies,) 
‘And  all  th’  offended  synod  of  the  skies, 

Just  hecatombs,  with  due  devotion  slain. 

Thy  guilt  absolved,  a  prosperous  voyage  gain. 

-  To  the  firm  sanction  of  thy  fate  attend ! 

An  exile  thou,  nor  cheering  face  of  friend. 

Nor  sight  of  natal  shore,  nor  regal  dome. 

Shall  yet  enjoy,  but  still  art  doom’d  to  roam. 

Once  more  the  Nile,  who  from  the  secret  source 
Of  Jove’s  high  seat  descends  with  sweepy  force. 
Must  view  his  billows  white  beneath  thy  oar. 

And  altars  blaze  along  his  sanguine  shore. 

Then  will  the  gods,  with  holy  pomp  adored. 

To  thy  long  vows  a  safe  return  accord.’ 

“He  ceased;  heart- wounded  with  afflictive  pain, 
(Doom’d  to  repeat  the  perils  of  the  main, 

A  shelfy  tract  and  long !)  ‘  Oh,  seer !’  I  cry, 

‘To  the  stern  sanction  of  th’  offended  sky 
My  prompt  obedience  bows.  But  deign  to  say, 
What  fate  propitious,  or  what  dire  dismay. 

Sustain  those  peers,  the  relics  of  our  host. 

Whom  I  with  Nestor  on  the  Phrygian  coast 
Embracing  left?  Must  I  the  warriors  weep, 

^  Whelm’d  in  the  bottom  of  the  monstrous  deep  ? 

Or  did  the  kind  domestic  friend  deplore 
The  breathless  heroes  on  their  native  shore  ?’ 

“‘Press  not  too  far,’  replied  the  god:  ‘but  cease 
To  know,  what  known  will  violate  thy  peace : 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  IV. 


75 


Too  curious  of  their  doom!  with  friendly  wo 
Thy  breast  will  heave,  and  tears  eternal  flow. 

Part  live;  the  rest,  a  lamentable  train. 

Range  the  dark  bounds  of  Pluto’s  dreary  reign. 

Two,  foremost  in  the  roll  of  Mars  renown’d. 

Whose  arms  with  conquest  in  thy  cause  were  crown’d. 
Fell  by  disastrous  fate;  by  tempest  toss’d, 

A  third  lives  wretched  on  a  distant  coast. —  670 

By  Neptune,  rescued  from  Minerva’s  hate. 

On  Gyree,  safe  Oi'lean  Ajax  sate, 

His  ship  o’erwhelm’d :  but,  frowning  on  the  floods. 
Impious  he  roars  defiance  to  the  gods; 

To  his  own  prowess  all  the  glory  gave. 

The  power  defrauding  who  vouchsafed  to  save. 

This  heard  the  raging  ruler  of  the  main;  • 

His  spear,  indignant  for  such  high  disdain. 

He  launch’d:  dividing  with  his  forky  mace 

Th’  aerial  summit  from  the  marble  base:  680 

The  rock  rush’d  seaward  with  impetuous  roar. 

Ingulf’d,  and  to  th’  abyss  the  boaster  bore. — 

By  Juno’s  guardian  aid,  the  watery  vast, 

Secure  of  storms,  your  royal  brother  pass’d ; 

Till  coasting  nigh  the  cape,  where  Malaea  shrouds 
Her  spiry  cliffs  amid  surrounding  clouds; 

A  whirling  gust  tumultuous  from  the  shore 
Across  the  deep  his  labouring  vessel  bore. 

In  an  ill-fated  hour  the  coast *he  gain’d. 

Where  late  in  regal  pomp  Thyestes  reign’d:  600 

But,  when  his  hoary  honours  bow’d  to  fate, 
iEgysthus  govern’d  in  paternal  state. 

The  surges  now  subside,  the  tempest  ends; 

From  his  tall  ship  the  king  of  men  descends; 

There  fondly  thinks  the  gods  conclude  his  toil  I 
Far  from  his  own  domain  salutes  the  soil: 

With  rapture  oft  the  verge  of  Greece  reviews, 

And  the  dear  turf  with  tears  of  joy  bedews. 

Him  thus  exulting  on  the  distant  strand, 

A  spy  distinguish’d  from  his  airy  stand ; 


700 


76 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  IV. 


To  bribe  whose  vigilance,  iEgysthus  told 
A  mighty  sum  of  ill-persuading  gold: 

There  watch’d  this  guardian  of  his  guilty  fear, 

Till  the  twelfth  moon  had  wheel’d  her  pale  career. 

And  now,  admonish’d  by  his  eye,  to  court 
With  terror  wing’d  conveys  the  dread  report. 

Of  deathful  arts  expert,  his  lord  employs 
The  ministers  of  blood  in  dark  surprise ; 

And  twenty  youths  in  radiant  mail  incased. 

Close  ambush’d,  nigh  the  spacious  hall  he  placed.  710 
Then  bids  prepare  the  hospitable  treat: 

Vain  shows  of  love  to  veil  his  felon-hate! 

To  sfrace  the  victor’s  welcome  from  the  wars 
A  train  of  coursers  and  triumphal  cars 
Magnificent  he  leads:  the  royal  guest, 

Thoughtless  of  ill,  accepts  the  fraudful  feast. 

The  troop,  forth  issuing  from  the  dark  recess. 

With  homicidal  rage  the  king  oppress. 

So,  while  he  feeds  luxurious  in  the  stall. 

The  sovereign  of  the  herd  is  doom’d  to  fall.  720 

The  partners  of  his  fame  anddoils  at  Troy, 

Around  their  lord,  a  mighty  ruin  I  lie : 

Mix’d  with  the  brave,  the  base  invaders  bleed ; 
iEgysthus  sole  survives  to  boast  the  deed.’ 

“He  said;  chill  horrors  shook  my  shivering  soul; 
Rack’d  with  convulsive  pangs,  in  dust  I  roll ; 

And  hate,  in  madness  of  extreme  despair. 

To  view  the  sun,  or  breathe  the  vital  air. 

But  when,  superior  to  the  rage  of  wo, 

I  stood  restored,  and  tears  had  ceased  to  flow,  730 

Lenient  of  grief,  the  pitying  god  began: 

‘Forget  the  brother,  and  resume  the  man: 

To  Fate’s  supreme  dispose  the  dead  resign. 

That  care  be  Fate’s,  a  speedy  passage  thine. 

Still  lives  the  wretch  who  wrought  the  death  deplored. 
But  lives  a  victim  for  thy  vengeful  sword ; 

Unless  with  filial  rage  Orestes  glow. 

And  swift  prevent  the  meditated  blow; 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  IV. 


77 


You  timely  will  return  a  welcome  guest, 

With  him  to  share  the  sad  funereal  feast.’  740 

“He  said:  new  thoughts  my  beating  heart  employ, 

My  gloomy  soul  receives  a  gleam  of  joy. 

Fair  hope  revives;  and  eager  I  address’d 
The  prescient  godhead  to  reveal  the  rest: 

‘The  doom  decreed  of  those  disastrous  two 
I ’ve  heard  with  pain,  but,  oh !  the  tale  pursue ; 

What  third  brave  son  of  Mars  the  Fates  constrain 
To  roam  the  howling  desert  of  the  main; 

Or,  in  eternal  shade  if  cold  he  lies, 

Provoke  new  sorrow  from  these  grateful  eyes.’  750 

“‘That  chief,’  rejoin’d  the  god,  ‘his  race  derives 
From  Ithaca,  and  wondrous  woes  survives; 

Laertes  son:  girt  with  circumfluous  tides. 

He  still  calamitous  constraint  abides. 

Him  in  Calypso’s  cave  of  late  I  view’d, 

When  streaming  grief  his  faded  cheek  bedew’d. 

But  yain  his  prayer,  his  arts  are  vain,  to  move 
Th’  enamour’d  goddess,  or  elude  her  love: 

His  vessel  sunk,  and  dear  companions  lost, 

He  lives  reluctant  on  a  foreign  coast.  7G0 

But,  oh,  beloved  by  Heaven!  reserved  to  thee 
A  happier  lot  the  smiling  fates  decree: 

Free  from  that  law,  beneath  whose  mortal  sway 
Matter  is  changed,  and  varying  forms  decay, 

Elysium  shall  be  thine;  the  blissful  plains 
Of  utmost  earth,  where  Rhadamanthus  reigns. 

Joys  ever  young,  unmix’d  with  pain  or  fear, 

Fill  the  wide  circle  of  th’  eternal  year: 

Stern  winter  smiles  on  that  auspicious  clime; 

The  fields  are  florid  with  unfading  prime;  770 

From  the  bleak  pole  no  winds  inclement  blow, 

Mould  the  round  hail,  or  flake  the  fleecy  snow ; 

But  from  the  breezy  deep  the  bless’d  inhale 
The  fragrant  murmurs  of  the  western  gale. 

This  grace  peculiar  will  the  gods  afford 

To  thee,  the  son  of  Jove,  and  beauteous  Helen’s  lord.’ 


78 


the  odyssey,  book  IV. 


“He  ceased;  and,  plunging  in  the  vast  profound, 
Beneath  the  god  the  whirling  billows  bound. 

Then  speeding  back,  involved  in  various  thought, 
My  friends  attending  at  the  shore  I  sought. 

Arrived,  the  rage  of  hunger  we  control, 

Till  night  with  silent  shade  invests  the  pole; 

Then  lose  the  care  of  life  in  pleasing  rest. 

Soon  as  the  morn  reveals  the  roseate  east, 

With  sails  we  wing  the  masts,  our  anchors  weigh. 
Unmoor  the  fleet,  and  rush  into  the  sea. 

Ranged  on  the  banks,  beneath  our  equal  oars 
White  curl  the  waves,  and  the  vex’d  ocean  roars. 
Then,  steering  backward  from  the  Pharian  isle, 
gain  the  strea.m  of  Jove-descended  Nile; 

There  quit  the  ships,  and  on  the  destined  shore 
With  ritual  hecatombs  the  gods  adore: 

Their  wrath  atoned,  to  Agamemnon’s  name 
A  cenotaph  I  raise  of  deathless  fame. 

These  rites  to  piety  and  grief  discharged. 

The  friendly  gods  a  springing  gale  enlarged: 

The  fleet  swift  tilting  o’er  the  surges  flew. 

Till  Grecian  cliffs  appear’d,  a  blissful  view! 

“  Thy  patient  ear  hath  heard  me  long  relate 
A  story,  fruitful  of  disastrous  fate; 

And  now,  young  prince,  indulge  my  fond  request ; 
Be  Sparta  honour’d  with  his  royal  guest. 

Till,  from  his  eastern  goal,  the  joyous  sun 
His  twelfth  diurnal  race  begins  to  run. 

Meantime,  my  train  the  friendly  gifts  prepare. 
Three  sprightly  coursers,  and  a  polish’d  car: 

With  these  a  goblet  of  capacious  mould. 

Figured  with  art  to  dignify  the  gold, 

(Form’d  for  libation  to  the  gods,)  shall  prove 
A  pledge  and  monument  of  sacred  love.” 

“My  quick  return,”  young  Ithacus  rejoin’d, 
“Damps  the  warm  wishes  of  my  raptured  mind: 
Did  not  my  fate  my  needful  haste  constrain. 
Charmed  by  your  speech,  so  graceful  and  humane. 


780 


790 


800 


810 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  IV. 

Lost  in  delight  the  circling  year  would  roll, 
While  deep  attention  fix’d  my  listening  soul. 

But  now  to  Pyle  permit  my  destined  way; 

My  loved  associates  chide  my  long  delay: 

In  dear  remembrance  of  your  royal  grace, 

I  take  the  present  of  the  promised  vase ; 

The  coursers,  for  the  champaign  sports  retain: 
That  gift  our  barren  rocks  will  render  vain: 
Horrid  with  cliffs,  our  meagre  land  allows 
Thin  herbage  for  the  mountain-goat  to  browse. 
But  neither  mead  nor  plain  supplies,  to  feed 
The  sprightly  courser,  or  indulge  his  speed: 

To  sea-surrounded  realms  the  gods  assign 
Small  tract  of  fertile  lawn,  the  least  to  mine.” 

His  hand  the  king  with  tender  passion  press’d. 
And,  smiling,  thus  the  royal  youth  address’d: 

“Oh,  early  worth!  a  soul  so  wise,  and  young. 
Proclaims  you  from  the  sage  Ulysses  sprung. 
Selected  from  my  stores,  of  matchless  price. 

An  urn  shall  recompense  your  prudent  choice : 
Not  mean  the  massy  mould  of  silver,  graced 
By  Vulcan’s  art,  the  verge  with  gold  enchased; 
A  pledge  the  sceptred  power  of  Sidon  gave. 
When  to  his  realm  I  plough’d  the  orient  wave.” 

Thus  they  alternate;  while  with  artful  care 
The  menial  train  the  regal  feast  prepare: 

The  firstlings  of  the  ffock  are  doom’d  to  die ; 
Rich  fragrant  wines  the  cheering  bowl  supply ; 
A  female  band  the  gifts  of  Ceres  bring; 

And  the  gilt  roofs  with  genial  triumph  ring. 

Meanwhile,  in  Ithaca,  the  suitor-powers 
In  active  games  divide  the  jovial  hours: 

In  areas  varied  with  mosaic  art. 

Some  whirl  the  disk,  and  some  the  javelin  dart. 
Aside,  sequester’d  from  the  vast  resort, 

Antinoiis  sate,  spectator  of  the  sport; 

With  great  Eurymachus,  of  worth  confess  d. 
And  high  descent,  superior  to  the  rest; 

Whom  young  Noemon  lowly  thus  address’d: 


79 


820 


830 


840 


850 


80 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  IV. 


“My  ship,  equipp’d  within  the  neighbouring  port, 

The  prince,  departing  for  the  Pylian  court. 

Requested  for  his  speed;  but,  courteous,  say 
When  steers  he  home,  or  why  this  long  delay? 

For  Elis  I  should  sail  with  utmost  speed, 

T’  import  twelve  mares  which  there  luxurious  feed, 

And  twelve  young  mules,  a  strong  laborious  race,  860 
New  to  the  plough,  unpractised  in  the  trace.” 

Unknowing  of  the  course  to  Pyle  design’d, 

A  sudden  horror  seized  on  either  mind ; 

The  prince  in  rural  bower  they  fondly  thought. 
Numbering  his  flocks  and  herds,  not  far  remote. 

“Relate,”  Antinoiis  cries,  “devoid  of  guile, 

When  spread  the  prince  his  sail  for  distant  Pyle? 

Did  chosen  chiefs  across  the  gulfy  main 
Attend  his  voyage,  or  domestic  train? 

Spontaneous  did  you  speed  his  secret  course,  870 

Or  was  the  vessel  seized  by  fraud  or  force?” 

“With  willing  duty,  not  reluctant  mind,” 

Noemon  cried,  “the  vessel  was  resign’d. 

Who,  in  the  balance,  with  the  great  affairs 
Of  courts,  presume  to  weigh  their  private  cares? 

With  him,  the  peerage  next  in  power  to  you ; 

And  Mentor,  captain  of  the  lordly  crew. 

Or  some  celestial  in  his  reverend  form. 

Safe  from  the  secret  rock  and  adverse  storm, 

Pilots  the  course:  for  when  the  glimmering  ray  880 
Of  yester  dawn  disclosed  the  tender  day. 

Mentor  himself  I  saw,  and  much  admired.” 

Then  ceased  the  youth,  and  from  the  court  retired. 
Confounded  and  appall’d,  th’  unfinish’d  game 
The  suitors  quit,  and  all  to  council  came. 

Antinoiis  first  th’  assembled  peers  address’d. 

Rage  sparkling  in  his  eyes,  and  burning  in  his  breast : 

“Oh,  shame  to  manhood!  shall  one  daring  boy 
The  scheme  of  all  our  happiness  destroy? 

Fly  unperceived,  seducing  half  the  flower  890 

Of  nobles,  and  invite  a  foreign  power? 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  IV. 


81 


The  ponderous  engine  raised  to  crush  us  all, 

Recoiling,  on  his  head  is  sure  to  fall. 

Instant  prepare  me,  on  the  neighbouring  strand. 

With  twenty  chosen  mates,  a  vessel  mann’d ; 

For,  ambush’d  close  beneath  the  Samian  shore. 

His  ship  returning  shall  my  spies  explore: 

He  soon  his  rashness  shall  with  life  atone. 

Seek  for  his  father’s  fate,  but  find  his  own.” 

With  vast  applause  the  sentence  all  approve;  900 

Then  rise,  and  to  the  feastful  hall  remove: 

Swift  to  the  queen  the  herald  Medon  ran. 

Who  heard  the  consult  of  the  dire  divan : 

Before  her  dome  the  royal  matron  stands. 

And  thus  the  message  of  his  haste  demands: 

“What  will  the  suitors?  Must  my  servant-train 
Th’  alotted  labours  of  the  day  refrain. 

For  them  to  form  some  exquisite  repast? 

Heaven  grant  this  festival  may  prove  their  last! 

Or,  if  they  still  must  live,  from  me  remove  910 

The  double  plague  of  luxury  and  love! 

Forbear,  ye  sons  of  insolence  1  forbear. 

In  riot  to  consume  a  wretched  heir. 

In  the  young  soul  illustrious  thoughts  to  raise. 

Were  ye  not  tutor’d  with  Ulysses’  praise? 

Have  not  your  fathers  oft  my  lord  defined, 

Gentle  of  speech,  beneficent  of  mind? 

Some  kings  with  arbitrary  rage  devour. 

Or  in  their  tyrant-minions  vest  the  power; 

Ulysses  let  no  partial  favours  fall;  920 

The  people’s  parent,  he  protected  all: 

But  absent  now,  perfidious  and  ingrate ! 

His  stores  ye  ravage,  and  usurp  his  state.” 

He  thus:  “Oh,  were  the  words  you  speak  the  worst! 
They  form  a  deed  more  odious  and  accurs  d ; 

More  dreadful  than  your  boding  soul  divines : 

But  pitying  Jove  avert  the  dire  designs! 

The  darling  object  of  your  royal  care 
Is  mark’d  to  perish  in  a  deathful  snare ; 

4*  F 


82 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  IV. 


Before  he  anchors  in  his  native  port, 

From  Pyle  resailing  and  the  Spartan  court; 
Horrid  to  speak !  in  ambush  is  decreed 
The  hope  and  heir  of  Ithaca  to  bleed !” 

Sudden  she  sunk  beneath  the  weighty  woes, 
The  vital  streams  a  chilling  horror  froze ; 

The  big  round  tear  stands  trembling  in  her  eye. 
And  on  her  tongue  imperfect  accents  die. 

At  length,  in  tender  language,  interwove 
With  sighs,  she  thus  express’d  her  anxious  love: 

“Why  rashly  would  my  son  his  fate  explore. 
Ride  the  wild  waves,  and  quit  the  safer  shore? 
Did  he,  with  all  the  greatly  wretched,  crave 
A  blank  oblivion  and  untimely  grave?” 

“’Tis  not,”  replied  the  sage,  “to  Medon  given 
To  know,  if  some  inhabitant  of  heaven 
In  his  young  breast  the  daring  thought  inspired ! 
Or  if,  alone  with  filial  duty  fired. 

The  winds  and  waves  he  tempts  in  early  bloom, 
Studious  to  learn  his  absent  father’s  doom.” 

The  sage  retired. — Unable  to  control 
The  mighty  griefs  that  swell  her  labouring  soul. 
Rolling  convulsive  on  the  floor,  is  seen 
The  piteous  object  of  a  prostrate  queen. 

Words  to  her  dumb  complaint  a  pause  supplies. 
And  breath  to  waste  in  unavailing  cries. 

Around  their  sovereign  wept  the  menial  fair. 

To  whom  she  thus  address’d  her  deep  despair: 

“  Behold  a  wretch  whom  all  the  gods  consign 
To  wo!  Did  ever  sorrows  equal  mine? 

Long  to  my  joys  my  dearest  lord  is  lost. 

His  country’s  buckler,  and  the  Grecian  boast: 
Now  from  my  fond  embrace,  by  tempests  torn. 
Our  other  column  of  the  state  is  borne: 

Nor  took  a  kind  adieu,  nor  sought  consent! — 
Unkind  confederates  in  his  diro  intent! 

Ill  suits  it  with  your  shows  of  duteous  zeal. 
From  me  the  purposed  voyage  to  conceal : 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  IV. 


83 


Though  at  the  solemn  midnight  hour  he  rose, 

Why  did  you  fear  to  trouble  my  repose? 

He  either  had  obey’d  my  fond  desire, 

Or  seen  his  mother,  pierced  with  grief,  expire. 

Bid  Dolius  quick  attend,  the  faithful  slave 
Whom  to  my  nuptial-train  Icarius  gave. 

To  tend  the  fruit-groves ;  with  incessant  speed 
He  shall  this  violence  of  death  decreed 
To  good  Laertes  tell.  Experienced  age 
'May  timely  intercept  the  ruffian  rage. 

Convene  the  tribes,  the  murderous  plot  reveal, 

And  to  their  power  to  save  his  race  appeal.” 

Then  Euryclea  thus:  “My  dearest  dread! 
Though  to  the  sword  I  bow  this  hoary  head. 

Or  if  a  dungeon  be  the  pain  decreed, 

I  own  me  conscious  of  th’  unpleasing  deed : 

Auxiliar  to  his  flight,  my  aid  implored. 

With  wine  and  viands  I  the  vessel  stored: 

A  solemn  oath,  imposed,  the  secret  seal’d. 

Till  the  twelfth  dawn  the  light  of  heaven  reveal’d. 
Dreading  th’  effect  of  a  fond  mother’s  fear. 

He  dared  not  violate  your  royal  ear. 

But  bathe,  and,  in  imperial  robes  array’d. 

Pay  due  devotions  to  the  martial  maid,* 

And  rest  affianced  in  her  guardian  aid. 

Send  not  to  good  Laertes,  nor  engage 
In  toils  of  state  the  miseries  of  age : 

’Tis  impious  to  surmise  the  powers  divine 
To  ruin  doom  the  Jove-descended  line: 

Long  shall  the  race  of  just  Arcesius  reign, 

And  isles  remote  enlarge  his  old  domain.” 

The  queen  her  speech  with  calm  attention  hears, 
Her  eyes  restrain  the  silver-streaming  tears : 

She  bathes,  and,  robed,  the  sacred  dome  ascends ; 
Her  pious  speed  a  female  train  attends : 


970 


980 


990 


1000 


*  Minerva. 


84 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  IV. 


The  salted  cakes  in  canisters  are  laid, 

And  thus  the  queen  invokes  Minerva’s  aid:^ 

“Daughter  divine  of  Jove,  whose  arm  can  wield 
Th’  avenging  bolt,  and  shake  the  dreadful  shield ! 

If  e’er  Ulysses  to  thy  fane  preferr’d 

The  best  and  choicest  of  his  flock  and  herd,. 

Hear,  goddess,  hear,  by  those  oblations  won ; 

And  for  the  pious  sire  preserve  the  son ! 

His  wish’d  return  with  happy  power  befriend, 

And  on  the  suitors  let  thy  wrath  descend.” 

She  ceased;  shrill  ecstacies  of  joy  declare 
The  favouring  goddess  present  to  the  prayer: 

The  suitors  heard,  and  deem’d  the  mirthful  voice 
A  signal  of  her  hymeneal  choice ; 

While  one  most  jovial  thus  accosts  the  board: 

“Too  late  the  queen  selects  a  second  lord; 

In  evil  hour  the  nuptial  rite  intends. 

When  o’er  her  son  disastrous  death  impends.” 

Thus  he,  unskill’d  of  what  the  fates  provide! 

But  with  severe  rebuke  Antinoiis  cried: 

“These  empty  vaunts  will  make  the  voyage  vain; 
Alarm  not  with  discourse  the  menial  train: 

The  great  event  with  silent  hope  attend; 

Our  deeds  alone  our  counsel  must  commend.” 

His  speech  thus  ended  short,  he  frowning  rose. 
And  twenty  chiefs  renown’d  for  valour  chose: 

Down  to  the  strand  he  speeds  with  haughty  strides. 
Where  anchor’d  in  the  bay  the  vessel  rides. 

Replete  with  mail  and  military  store. 

In  all  her  tackle  trim  to  quit  the  shore. 

The  desperate  crew  ascend,  unfurl  the  sails 
(The  seaward  prow  invites  the  tardy  gales) :  * 

Then  take  repast,  till  Hesperus  display’d 
His  golden  circlet  in  the  'western  shade. 

Meantime,  the  queen,  without  reflection  due, 
Heart- wounded,  to  the  bed  of  state  withdrew: 

In  her  sad  breast  the  prince’s  fortunes  roll. 

And  hope  and  doubt  alternate  seize  her  soul. 


1010 


1020 


1030 


1040 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  IV. 


85 


So  when  the  woodman’s  toil  her  cave  surrounds, 

And  with  the  hunter’s  cry  the  grove  resounds, 

With  grief  and  rage  the  mother-lion  stung. 

Fearless  herself,  yet  trembles  for  her  young. 

While  pensive  in  the  silent  slumberous  shade. 

Sleep’s  gentle  powers  her  drooping  eyes  invade; 
Minerva,  life-like,  on  embodied  air 
Impress’d  the  form  of  Iphthim^  the  fair; 

(Icarius’  daughter  she,  whose  blooming  charms 
Allured  Eumelus  to  her  virgin  arms;  1050 

A  sceptred  lord,  who,  o’er  the  fruitful  plain 
Of  Thessaly,  wide  stretch’d  his  ample  reign:) 

As  Pallas  will’d,  along  the  sable  skies. 

To  calm  the  queen,  the  phantom  sister  flies. 

Swift  on  the  regal  dome  descending  right. 

The  bolted  valves  are  pervious  to  her  flight. 

Close  to  her  head  the  pleasing  vision  stands. 

And  thus  performs  Minerva’s  high  commands; 

“Oh  why,  Penelop6,  this  causeless  fear. 

To  render  sleep’s  soft  blessing  insincere?  1060 

Alike  devote  to  sorrow’s  dire  extreme 

The  day-reflection,  and  the  midnight  dream ! 

Thy  son  the  gods  propitious  will  restore. 

And  bid  thee  cease  his  absence  to  deplore.” 

To  whom  the  queen  (while  yet  her  pensive  mind 
Was  in  the  silent  gates  of  sleep  confined): 

“Oh,  sister!  to  my  soul  for  ever  dear. 

Why  this  first  visit  to  reprove  my  fear? 

How  in  a  realm  so  distant  should  you  know 

From  what  deep  source  my  deathless  sorrows  flow!  1070 

To  all  my  hope  my  royal  lord  is  lost. 

His  country’s  buckler,  and  the  Grecian  boast: 

And,  with  consummate  wo  to  weigh  me  down. 

The  heir  of  all  his  honours  and  his  crown. 

My  darling  son  is  fled !  an  easy  prey 

To  the  fierce  storms,  or  men  more  fierce  than  they: 

Who,  in  a  league  of  blood  associates  sworn. 

Will  intercept  th’  unwary  youth’s  return.” 


86 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  IV. 


“Courage  resume,”  the  shadowy  form  replied; 
“In  the  protecting  care  of  Heaven  confide: 

On  him  attends  the  blue-eyed  martial  maid. 

What  earthly  can  implore  a  surer  aid? 

Me  now  the  guardian  goddess  deigns  to  send, 

To  bid  thee  patient  his  return  attend.” 

The  queen  replies:  “If,  in  the  bless'd  abodes 
A  goddess,  thou  hast  commerce  with  the  gods ; 
Say,  breathes  my  lord  the  blissful  realm  of  light. 
Or  lies  he  wrapp’d  in  ever-during  night?” 

“Inquire  not  of  his  doom,”  the  phantom  cries; 
“I  speak  not  all  the  counsel  of  the  skies: 

Nor  must  indulge  with  vain  discourse,  or  long. 
The  windy  satisfaction  of  the  tongue.” 

Swift  through  the  valves  the  visionary  fair 
Repass’d,  and  viewless  mix’d  with  common  air. 
The  queen  awakes,  deliver’d  of  her  woes; 

With  florid  joy  her  heart  dilating  glows: 

The  vision,  manifest  of  future  fate. 

Makes  her  with  hope  her  son’s  arrival  wait. 

Meantime,  the  suitors  plough  the  watery  plain ; 
Telemachus,  in  thought,  already  slain! 

When  sight  of  lessening  Ithaca  was  lost, 

Their  sail  directed  for  the  Samian  coast, 

A  small  but  verdant  isle  appeared  in  view. 

And  Asteris  th’  advancing  pilot  knew : 

An  ample  port  the  rocks  projected  form. 

To  break  the  rolling  waves  and  ruffling  storm : 
That  safe  recess  they  gain  with  happy  speed. 
And  in  close  ambush  wait  the  murderous  deed. 


1080 


1000 


1100 


BOOK  V. 


The  Departure  of  Ulysses  from  Calypso. 

Asgument. — Pallas  in  a  council  of  the  gods  complains  of  the  detention  of 
Ulysses  in  the  island  of  Calypso  ;  whereupon  Mercury  is  sent  to  command 
his  removal.  The  seat  of  Calypso  described.  She  consents  with  much 
difficulty ;  and  Ulysses  builds  a  vessel  with  his  own  hands,  on  which  he 
embarks.  Neptune  overtakes  him  with  a  terrible  tempest,  in  which  he  is 
shipwrecked,  and  in  the  last  danger  of  death  :  till  Leucothea,  a  sea-goddess, 
assists  him,  and,  after  innumerable  perils,  he  gets  ashore  on  Phseacia, 


The  saffron  morn,  with  early  blushes  spread, 

Now  rose  refulgent  from  Tithonus’  bed; 

With  new-born  day  to  gladden  mortal  sight, 

And  gild  the  courts  of  heaven  with  sacred  light. 

Then  met  th’  eternal  synod  of  the  sky. 

Before  the  god  who  thunders  from  on  high. 

Supreme  in  might,  sublime  in  majesty. 

Pallas  to  these  deplores  th’  unequal  fates 
Of  wise  Ulysses,  and  his  toils  relates: 

Her  hero’s  danger  touch’d  the  pitying  power,  10 

The  nymph’s  seducements,  and  the  magic  bower.' 

Thus  she  began  her  plaint:  “Immortal  Jove! 

And  you  who  fill  the  blissful  seats  above  I 
Let  kings  no  more  with  gentle  mercy  sway, 

Or  bless  a  people  willing  to  obey. 

But  crush  the  nations  with  an  iron  rod. 

And  every  monarch  be  the  scourge  of  God  1 
If  from  your  thoughts  Ulysses  you  remove. 

Who  ruled  his  subjects  with  a  father’s  love. 

Sole  in  an  isle,  encircled  by  the  main,  20 

Abandon’d,  banish’d  from  his  native  reign, 

Unbless’d  he  sighs;  detain’d  by  lawless  charms. 

And  press’d  unwilling  in  Calypso’s  arms. 


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THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  V. 


Nor  friends  are  there,  nor  vessels  to  convey, 

Nor  oars  to  cut  th’  immeasurable  way. 

And  now  fierce  traitors,  studious  to  destroy 
His  only  son,  their  ambush’d  fraud  employ ; 

Who,  pious,  following  his  great  father’s  fame, 

To  sacred  Pylos  and  to  Sparta  came.” 

“What  words  are  these?”  (replied  the  power  who  forms 
The  clouds  of  night,  and  darkens  heaven  with  storms;)  31 
“Is  not  already  in  thy  soul  decreed, 

The  chief’s  return  shall  make  the  guilty  bleed? 

What  cannot  Wisdom  do?  Thou  may’st  restore 
The  son  in  safety  to  his  native  shore: 

While  the  fell  foes,  who  late  in  ambush  lay. 

With  fraud  defeated,  measure  back  their  way.” 

Then  thus  to  Hermes  the  command  was  given : 
“Hermes,  thou  chosen  messenger  of  heaven! 

Go ;  to  the  nymph  be  these  our  orders  borne :  40 

’Tis  Jove’s  decree,  Ulysses  shall  return. 

The  patient  man  shall  view  his  old  abodes. 

Nor  help’d  by  mortal  hand,  nor  guiding  gods; 

In  twice  ten  days  shall  fertile  Scheria  find. 

Alone,  and  floating  to  the  wave  and  wind. 

The  bold  Phmacians  there,  whose  haughty  line 
Is  mix’d  with  gods,  half  human,  half  divine. 

The  chief  shall  honour  as  some  heavenly  guest 
And  swift  transport  him  to  his  place  of  rest. 

His  vessels  loaded  with  a  plenteous  store  50 

Of  brass,  of  vestures,  and  resplendent  ore, 

(A  richer  prize  than  if  his  joyful  isle 
Received  him  charged  with  Ilion’s  noble  spoil,) 

His  friends,  his  country,  he  shall  see,  though  late; 

Such  is  our  sovereign  will,  and  such  is  fate.” 

He  spoke.  'The  god  who  mounts  the  winged  winds 
Fast  to  his  feet  the  golden  pinions  binds. 

That  high  through  fields  of  air  his  flight  sustain 
O’er  the  wide  earth,  and  o’er  the  boundless  main. 

He  graspsHhe  wand  that  causes  sleep  to  fly. 

Or  in  soft  slumber  seals  the  wakeful  eye : 


60 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  V. 


8D 

Then  shoots  from  heaven  to  high  Pieria’s  steep, 

And  stoops  incumbent  on  the  rolling  deep. 

So  watery  fowl,  that  seek  their  fishy  food. 

With  wings  expanded,  o’er  the  foaming  flood. 

Now  sailing  smooth  the  level  surface  sweep. 

Now  dip  their  pinions  in  the  briny  deep: 

Thus  o’er  the  world  of  waters  Hermes  flew. 

Till  now  the  distant  island  rose  in  view; 

Then  swift  ascending  from  the  azure  wave,  70 

He  took  the  path  that  winded  to  the  cave. 

Large  was  the  grot,  in  which  the  nymph  he  found; 

(The  fair-hair’d  nymph,  with  every  beauty  crown’d.) 

She  sate,  and  sung;  the  rocks  resound  her  lays; 

The  cave  was  brighten’d  with  a  rising  blaze; 

Gedar  and  frankincense,  an  odorous  pile. 

Flamed  on  the  hearth,  and  wide  perfumed  the  isle; 

While  she  with  work  and  song  the  time  divides. 

And  through  the  loom  the  golden  shuttle  guides. 

Without  the  grot,  a  various  sylvan  scene  80 

Appear’d  around,  and  groves  of  living  green; 

Poplars  and  alders  ever  quivering  play’d. 

And  nodding  cypress  form’d  a  fragrant  shade; 

On  whose  high  branches,  waving  with  the  storm. 

The  birds  of  broadest  wing  their  mansion  form — 

The  chough,  the  sea-mew,  the  loquacious  crow — 

And  scream  aloft,  and  skim  the  deeps  below. 

Depending  vines  the  shelving  cavern  screen, 

With  purple  clusters  blushing  through  the  green. 

Four  limpid  fountains  from  the  clefts  distil,  '  00 

And  every  fountain  pours  a  several  rill. 

In  mazy  windings  wandering  down  the  hill ; 

Where  bloomy  meads  with  vivid  greens  were  crown’d. 
And  glowing  violets  threw  odours  round. 

A  scene  where,  if  a  god  should  cast  his  sight, 

A  god  might  gaze,  and  wander  with  delight ! 

Joy  touch’d  the  messenger  of  heaven:  he  stay’d 
1  Entranced,  and  all  the  blissful  haunt  survey’d. 

Him,  entering  in  the  cave,  Calypso  knew; 

|!  For  powers  celestial  to  each  other’s  view  ’  100 

I 


I 


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THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  V. 


Stand  still  confess’d,  though  distant  far  they  lie 
To  habitants  of  earth,  or  sea,  or  sky. 

But  sad  Ulysses,  by  himself  apart, 

Pour’d  the  big  sorrows  of  his  swelling  heart. 

All  on  the  lonely  shore  he  sate  to  weep, 

And  roll’d  his  eyes  around  the  restless  deep ; 

Tow’rd  his  loved  coast  he  roll’d  his  eyes  in  vain. 

Till,  dimm’d  with  rising  grief,  they  stream’d  again. 

Now  graceful  seated  on  her  shining  throne. 

To  Hermes  thus  the  nymph  divine  begun:  IB) 

“God  of  the  golden  wand!  on  what  behest 
Arriv’st  thou  here,  an  unexpected  guest? 

Loved  as  thou  art,  thy  free  injunctions  lay; 

’Tis  mine,  with  joy  and  duty  to  obey. 

Till  now  a  stranger,  in  a  happy  hour 
Approach,  and  taste  the  dainties  of  my  bower.” 

Thus  having  spoke,  the  nymph  the  table  spread ; 
(Ambrosial  cates,  with  nectar  rosy-red ;) 

Hermes  the  hospitable  rite  partook. 

Divine  refection!  then,  recruited,  spoke;  120 

“What  moved  this  journey  from  my  native  sky, 

A  goddess  asks,  nor  can  a  god  deny : 

Hear  then  the  truth.  By  mighty  Jove’s  command. 
Unwilling  have  I  trod  this  pleasing  land; 

For  who,  self-moved,  with  weary  wing  would  sweep 
Such  length  of  ocean  and  unmeasured  deep: 

A  world  of  waters !  far  from  all  the  ways 
Where  men  frequent,  or  sacred  altars  blaze? 

But  to  Jove’s  will  submission  we  must  pay; 

What  power  so  great,  to  dare  to  disobey?  130 

A  man,  he  says,  a  man  resides  with  thee. 

Of  all  his  kind  most  worn  with  misery ; 

The  Greeks  (whose  arms  for  nine  long  years  employ’d 
Their  force  on  Ilion,  in  the  tenth  destroy’d) 

At  length  embarking  in  a  luckless  hour. 

With  conquest  proud,  incensed  Minerva’s  power: 

Hence  on  the  guilty  race  her  vengeance  hurl’d. 

With  storms  pursued  them  through  the  liquid  world. 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  V. 


91 


There  all  his  vessels  sunk  beneath  the  wave! 

There  all  his  dear  companions  found  their  grave!  140 
Saved  from  the  jaws  of  death  by  Heaven’s  decree, 

The  tempest  drove  him  to  these  shores  and  thee: 

Him  Jove  now  orders  to  his  native  lands 
Straight  to  dismiss:  so  destiny  commands: 

Impatient  Fate  his  near  return  attends, 

And  calls  him  to  his  country  and  his  friends.” 

Ev’n  to  her  inmost  soul  the  goddess  shook; 

Then  thus  her  anguish  and  her  passion  broke : 

“Ungracious  gods!  with  spite  and  envy  cursed! 

Still  to  your  own  ethereal  race  the  worst!  150 

Ye  envy  mortal  and  immortal  joy. 

And  love,  the  only  sweet  of  life,  destroy. 

Did  ever  goddess  by  her  charms  engage 
A  favour’d  mortal,  and  not  feel  your  rage? 

So  when  Aurora  sought  Orion’s  love. 

Her  joys  disturb’d  your  blissful  hours  above. 

Till,  in  Ortygia,  Dian’s  winged  dart 

Had  pierced  the  hapless  hunter  to  the  heart. 

So  when  the  covert  of  the  thrice-ear’d  field 

Saw  stately  Ceres  to  her  passion  yield,  160 

Scarce  could  lasion  taste  her  heavenly  charms. 

But  Jove’s  swift  lightning  scorch’d  him  in  her  arms. 

And  is  it  now  my  turn,  ye  mighty  powers ! 

Am  I  the  envy  of  your  blissful  bowers? 

A  man,  an  outcast  to  the  storm  and  wave. 

It  was  my  crime  to  pity  and  to  save ; 

When  he  who  thunders  rent  his  bark  in  twain, 

And  sunk  his  brave  companions  in  the  main. 

Alone,  abandon’d,  in  mid-ocean  toss’d, 

The  sport  of  winds,  and  driven  from  every  coast,  170 
Hither  this  man  of  miseries  I  led. 

Received  the  friendless,  and  the  hungry  fed ; 

Nay,  promised — vainly  promised! — to  bestow 
Immortal  life,  exempt  from  age  and  wo. 

’Tis  past:  and  Jove  decrees  he  shall  remove; 

Gods  as  we  are,  we  are  but  slaves  to  Jove. 


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THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  V. 


Go  then  he  may  (he  must,  if  he  ordain, 

Try  all  those  dangers,  all  those  deeps,  again): 

But  never,  never  shall  Calypso  send 

To  toils  like  these  her  husband  and  her  friend.  180 

What  ships  have  I,  what  sailors  to  convey. 

What  oars  to  cut  the  long  laborious  way? 

Yet,  ril  direct  the  safest  means  to  go; 

That  last  advice  is  all  I  can  bestow.” 

To  her  the  power  who  bears  the  charming  rod : 
“Dismiss  the  man,  nor  irritate  the  god: 

Prevent  the  rage  of  him  who  reigns  above; 

For  what  so  dreadful  as  the  wrath  of  Jove?” 

Thus  having  said,  he  cut  the  cleaving  sky, 

And  in  a  moment  vanish’d  from  her  eye.  190 

The  nymph,  obedient  to  divine  command, 

To  seek  Ulysses,  paced  along  the  sand. 

Him  pensive  on  the  lonely  beach  she  found. 

With  streaming  eyes  in  briny  torrents  drown’d. 

And  inly  pining  for  his  native  shore ; 

For  now  the  soft  enchantress  pleased  no  more: 

For  now,  reluctant,  and  constrain’d  by  charms. 

Absent  he  lay  in  her  desiring  arms ; 

In  slumber  wore  the  heavy  night  away; 

On  rocks  and  shores  consumed  the  tedious  day:  200 

There  sate  all  desolate,  and  sigh’d  alone. 

With  echoing  sorrows  made  the  mountains  groan. 

And  roll’d  his  eyes  o’er  all  the  restless  main. 

Till  dimm’d  with  rising  grief,  they  stream’d  again. 

Here,  on  his  musing  mood  the  goddess  press’d. 
Approaching  soft ;  and  thus  the  chief  address’d : 

“  Unhappy  man !  to  wasting  woes  a  prey. 

No  more  in  sorrows  languish  life  away: 

Free  as  the  winds  I  give  thee  now  to  rove. 

Go,  fell  the  timber  of  yon  lofty  grove,  210 

And  form  a  raft,  and  build  the  rising  ship. 

Sublime  to  bear  thee  o’er  the  gloomy  deep ; 

To  store  the  vessel,  let  the  cai'^  be  mine, 

With  water  from  the  rock,  and  rosy  wine, 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  V. 


93 


And  life-sustaining  bread,  and  fair  array, 

And  prosperous  gales  to  waft  thee  on  the  way. 

These,  if  the  gods  with  my  desires  comply, 

(The  gods,  alas!  more  mighty  far  than  I, 

And  better  skill’d  in  dark  events  to  come,) 

In  peace  shall  land  thee  at  thy  native  home.”  220 

With  sighs  Ulysses  heard  the  words  she  spoke, 

Then  thus  his  melancholy  silence  broke : 

“Some  other  motive,  goddess!  sways  thy  mind, 

(Some  cfose  design,  or  turn  of  womankind,) 

Nor  my  return  the  end,  nor  this  the  way. 

On  a  slight  raft  to  pass  the  swelling  sea — 

Huge,  horrid,  vast ! — where  scarce  in  safety  sails 
The  best-built  ship,  though  Jove  inspire  the  gales. 

The  bold  proposal  how  shall  I  fulfil. 

Dark  as  I  am,  unconscious  of  thy  will?  230 

Swear  then  thou  mean’st  not  what  my  soul  forebodes; 
Swear  by  the  solemn  oath  that  binds  the  gods.” 

Him,  while  he  spoke,  with  smiles  Calypso  eyed. 

And  gently  grasp’d  his  hand,  and  thus  replied: 

“This  shows  thee,  friend,  by  old  experience  taught. 

And  1  earn’d  in  all  the  wiles  of  human  thought. 

How  prone  to  doubt,  how  cautious  are  the  wise ! 

But  hear,  oh  earth!  and  hear,  ye  sacred  skies! 

And  thou,  oh  Styx!  whose  formidable  floods 
Glide  through  the  shades,  and  bind  th’  attesting  gods !  240 
No  form’d  design,  no  meditated  end. 

Lurks  in  the  counsel  of  thy  faithful  friend ; 

Kind  the  persuasion,  and  sincere  my  aim ; 

The  same  my  practice,  were  my  fate  the  same. 

Heaven  has  not  cursed  me  with  a  heart  of  steel. 

But  given  the  sense  to  pity  and  to  feel.” 

Thus  having  said,  the  goddess  march’d  before : 

He  trod  her  footsteps  in  the  sandy  shore. 

At  the  cool  cave  arrived,  they  took  their  state : 

He  fill’d  the  throne  where  Mercury  had  sate. 

For  him  the  nymph  a  rich  repast  ordains, 

Such  as  the  mortal  life  of  man  sustains; 


250 


94 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  V. 


Before  herself  were  placed  the  cates  divine, 

Ambrosial  banquet,  and  celestial  wine. 

Their  hunger  satiate,  and  their  thirst  repress’d. 

Thus  spoke  Calypso  to  her  godlike  guest : 

“  Ulysses !”  with  a  sigh  she  thus  began ; 

“Oh,  sprung  from  gods!  in  wisdom  more  than  man! 

Is  then  thy  home  the  passion  of  thy  heart? 

Thus  wilt  thou  leave  me?  are  we  thus  to  part?  260 

Farewell  1  and  ever  joyful  may’st  thou  be. 

Nor  break  the  transport  with  one  thought  of  me. 

But,  ah,  Ulysses  1  wert  thou  given  to  know 
What  Fate  yet  dooms  thee,  yet,  to  undergo; 

Thy  heart  might  settle  in  this  scene  of  ease, 

And  ev’n  these  slighted  charms  might  learn  to  please. 

A  willing  goddess,  and  immortal  life. 

Might  banish  from  thy  mind  an  absent  wife. 

Am  I  inferior  to  a  mortal  dame? 

Less  soft  my  feature,  less  august  my  frame?  270 

Or  shall  the  daughters  of  mankind  compare 
Their  earth-born  beauties  with  the  heavenly  fair?” 

“Alas!  for  this,”  the  prudent  man  replies, 

“Against  Ulysses  shall  thy  anger  rise? 

Loved  and  adored,  oh  goddess  I  as  thou  art, 

Forgive  the  weakness  of  a  human  heart ! 

Though  well  I  see  thy  graces  far  above 
The  dear,  though  mortal,  object  of  my  love; 

Of  youth  eternal  well  the  difference  know. 

And  the  short  date  of  fading  charms  below ;  280 

Yet  every  day,  while  absent  thus  I  roam, 

I  languish  to  return,  and  die  at  home. 

Whatever  the  gods  shall  destine  me  to  bear 
In  the  black  ocean,  or  the  watery  war, 

’Tis  mine  to  master  with  a  constant  mind ; 

Inured  to  perils,  to  the  worst  resign’d. 

By  seas,  by  wars,  so  many  dangers  run; 

Still  I  can  suffer :  their  high  will  be  done  1” 

Thus  while  he  spoke,  the  beamy  sun  descends, 

And  rising  night  her  friendly  shade  extends. 


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THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  V.  95 

To  the  close  grot  the  lonely  pair  remove, 

And  slept  delighted  with  the  gifts  of  love. 

When  rosy  morning  call’d  them  from  their  rest, 

Ulysses  robed  him  in  a  cloak  and  vest: 

The  nymph’s  fair  head  a  veil  transparent  graced, 

Her  swelling  loins  a  radiant  zone  embraced 
With  flowers  of  gold:  an  under- robe,  unbound. 

In  snowy  waves  flow’d  glittering  on  the  ground. 

Forth  issuing  thus,  she  gaye  him  first  to  wield 
A  weighty  axe  with  truest  temper  steel’d,  300 

A  double-edged;  the  handle  smooth  and  plain, 

Wrought  of  the  clouded  olive’s  easy  grain; 

And  next,  a  wedge  to  drive  with  sweepy  sway: 

Then  to  the  neighbouring  forest  led  the  way. 

On  the  lone  island’s  utmost  verge  there  stood 
Of  poplars,  pines,  and  firs,  a  lofty  wood. 

Whose  leafless  summits  to  the  skies  aspire. 

Scorch’d  by  the  sun,  or  sear’d  by  heavenly  fire, 

(Already  dried.)  These  pointing  out  to  view. 

The  nymph  just  show’d  him,  and  with  tears  withdrew. 

Now  toils  the  hero:  trees  on  trees  o’erthrown  310 
Fall  crackling  round  him,  and  the  forests  groan: 

Sudden,  full  twenty  on  the  plains  are  strow’d. 

And  lopp’d  and  lighten’d  of  their  branchy  load. 

At  equal  angles  these  disposed  to  join. 

He  smooth’d,  and  squared  them  by  the  rule  and  line. 

(The  wimbles  for  the  work  Calypso  found) 

With  those  he  pierced  them,  and  with  clinches  bound. 

Long  and  capacious,  as  a  shipwright  forms 

Some  bark’s  broad  bottom  to  out-ride  the  storms,  320 

So  large  he  built  the  raft:  then  ribb’d  it  strong 

From  space  to  space,  and  nail’d  the  planks  along ; 

These  form’d  the  sides :  the  deck  he  fashion’d  last ; 

Then  o’er  the  vessel  raised  the  taper  mast. 

With  crossing  sail-yards  dancing  in  the  wind ; 

And  to  the  helm  the  guiding  rudder  join’d, 

(With  yielding  osier’s  fenced  to  break  the  force 
Of  surging  waves,  and  steer  the  steady  course.) 


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THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  V. 


Thy  loom,  Calypso !  for  the  future  sails 

Supplied  the  cloth,  capacious  for  the  gales.  330 

With  stays  and  cordage  last  he  rigg’d  the  ship. 

And,  roll’d  on  levers,  launch’d  her  in  the  deep. 

Four  days  were  past,  and  now  the  work  complete. 
Shone  the  fifth  morn,  when  from  her  sacred  seat 
The  nymph  dismiss’d  him  (odorous  garments  given) 

And  bath’d  in  fragrant  oils  that  breath’d  of  heaven; 

Then  fill’d  two  goat-skins  with  her  hands  divine, 

With  water  one,  and  one  with  sable  wine: 

Of  every  kind,  provisions  heaved  aboard; 

And  the  full  decks  with  copious  viands  stored.  340 

The  goddess,  last,  a  gentle  breeze  supplies, 

To  curl  old  Ocean,  and  to  warm  the  skies. 

And  now,  rejoicing  in  the  prosperous  gales. 

With  beating  heart  Ulysses  spreads  his  sails : 

Placed  at  the  helm  he  sate,  and  mark’d  the  skies. 

Nor  closed  in  sleep  his  ever- watchful  eyes. 

There  view’d  the  Pleiads,  and  the  Northern  Team, 

And  great  Orion’s  more  refulgent  beam. 

To  which,  around  the  axle  of  the  sky. 

The  Bear,  revolving,  point^his  golden  eye:  350 

Who  shines  exalted  on  th’  ethereal  plain. 

Nor  bathes  his  blazing-forehead  in  the  main. 

Far  on  the  left  those  radiant  fires  to  keep. 

The  nymph  directed,  as  he  sails  the  deep. 

Full  seventeen  nights  he  cut  the  foamy  way : 

The  distant  land  appear’d  the  following  day: 

Then  swell’d  to  sight  PhsBacia’s  dusky  coast, 

And  woody  mountains,  half  in  vapours  lost. 

That  lay  before  him,  indistinct  and  vast. 

Like  a  broad  shield  amid  the  watery  waste.-  3(50 

But  him,  thus  voyaging  the  deeps  below. 

From  far,  on  Solym^’s  aerial  brow. 

The  king  of  ocean  saw,  and,  seeing,  burn’d ; 

(From  ^Ethiopia’s  happy  climes  return’d :) 

The  raging  monarch  shook  his  azure  head. 

And  thus  in  secret  to  his  soul  he  said: 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  V, 


97 


“Heavens!  how  uncertain  are  the  powers  on  high! 

Is  then  reversed  the  sentence  of  the  sky, 

In  one  man’s  favour;  while  a  distant  guest 
I  shared  secure  the  ^Ethiopian  feast?  ^  370 

Behold,  how  near  Phseacia’s  land  he  draws  I 
The  land,  affix’d  by  Fate’s  eternal  laws 
To  end  his  toils.  Is  then  our  anger  vain? 

No!  if  this  sceptre  yet  commands  the  main.” 

He  spoke ;  and  high  the  forky  trident  hurl’d. 

Rolls  clouds  on  clouds,  and  stirs  the  watery  world. 

At  once  the  face  of  earth  and  sea  deforms. 

Swells  all  the  winds,  and  rouses  all  the  storms. 

Down  rush’d  the  night:  east,  west,  together  roar; 

And  south,  and  north,  roll  mountains  to  the  shore;  380 
Then  shook  the  hero,  to  despair  resign’d. 

And  question’d  thus  his  yet  unconquer’d  mind  : 

“Wretch  that  I  am!  what  farther  fates  attend 
This  life  of  toils?  and  what  my  destined  end? 

Too  well,  alas !  the  island  goddess  knew, 

On  the  black  sea  what  perils  should  ensue. 

New  horrors  now  this  destined  head  enclose, 

Unfill’d  is  yet  the  measure  of  my  woes ; 

With  what  a  cloud  the  brows  of  heaven  are  crown’d! 
What  raging  winds !  what  roaring  waters  round !  390 

’Tis  Jove  himself  the  swelling  tempest  rears; 

Death,  present  deaths  on  every  side  appears. 

Happy!  thrice  happj  !  who,  in  battle  slain, 

Press’d,  in  Atrides’  cause,  the  Trojan  plain! 

Oh!  had  I  died  before  that  well-fought  wall! 

Had  some  distinguish’d  day  renown’d  my  fall 
(Such  as  was  that  when  showers  of  javelins  fled 
From  conquering  Troy  around  Achilles  dead): 

All  Greece  had  paid  me  solemn  funerals  then, 

And  spread  my  glory  with  the  sons  of  men.  400 

A  shameful  fate  now  hides  my  hapless  head, 

1  Unwept,  unnoted,  and  for  ever  dead!” 

A  mighty  wave  rush’d  o’er  him  as  he  spoke, 

'  The  raft  it  cover’d,  and  the  mast  it  broke ; 

6  G 


98 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  V. 


Swept  from  the  deck,  and  from  the  rudder  torn, 

Far  on  the  swelling  surge  the  chief  was  borne ; 

While  by  the  howling  tempest  rent  in  twain 
Flew  sail  and  sail-yards  rattling  o’er  the  main. 

Long  press’d,  he  heaved  beneath  the  weighty  wave, 
Clogg’d  by  the  cumbrous  vest  Calypso  gave;  410 

At  length  emerging,  from  his  nostrils  wide. 

And  gushing  mouth,  effused  the  briny  tide; 

Ev’n  then,  not  mindless  of  his  last  retreat, 

He  seized  the  raft,  and  leap’d  into  his  seat. 

Strong  with  the  fear  of  death.  The  rolling  flood 
Now  here,  now  there,  impel’d  the  floating  wood. 

As  when  a  heap  of  gather’d  thorns  is  cast 
Now  to,  now  fro,  before  th’  autumnal  blast; 

Together  clung,  it  rolls  around  the  field ; 

So  roll’d  the  float,  and  so  its  texture  held :  420 

And  now  the  south,  and'now  the  north,  bear  sway. 

And  now  the  east  the  foamy  floods  obey, 

And  now  the  west- wind  whirls  it  o’er  the  sea. 

The  wandering  chief,  with  toils  on  toils  oppress’d, 
Leucothea  saw,  and  pity  touch’d  her  breast : 

(Herself  a  mortal  once,  of  Cadmus’  strain. 

But  now  an  azure  sister  of  the  main.) 

Swift  as  a  sea-mew,  springing  from  the  flood, 

All  radiant  on  the  raft  the  goddess  stood :  430 

Then  thus  address’d  him:  “Thou,  whom  Heaven  decrees 
To  Neptune’s  wrath,  stern  tyrant  of  the  seas, 

(Unequal  contest!)  not  his  rage  and  power. 

Great  as  he  is,  such  virtue  shall  devour. 

What  I  suggest,  thy  wisdom  will  perform: 

Forsake  thy  float,  and  leave  it  to  the  storm ; 

Strip  off  thy  garments;  Neptune’s  fury  brave 
With  naked  strength,  and  plunge  into  the  wave. 

To  reach  Phaeacia  all  thy  nerves  extend, 

There  Fate  decrees  thy  miseries  shall  end. 

This  heavenly  scarf  beneath  thy  bosom  bind, 

And  live ;  give  all  thy  terrors  to  the  wind. 


440 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  V. 


99 


Soon  as  thy  arms  the  happy  shore  shall  gain, 

Return  the  gift,  and  cast  it  in  the  main; 

Observe  my  orders,  and  with  heed  obey. 

Cast  it  far  off,  and  turn  thy  eyes  away.” 

With  that,  her  hand  the  sacred  veil  bestows. 

Then  down  the  deeps  she  dived  from  whence  she  rose: 

A  moment  snatchM  the  shining  form  away. 

And  all  was  cover’d  with  the  curling  sea. 

Struck  with  amaze,  yet  still  to  doubt  inclined,  450 
He  stands  suspended,  and  explores  his  mind. 

“What  shall  I  do?  Unhappy  me!  Who  knows 
But  other  gods  intend  me  other  woes? 

Whoe’er  thou  art,  I  shall  not  blindly  join 
Thy  pleaded  reason,  but  consult  with  mine: 

For  scarce  in  ken  appears  that  distant  isle 
Thy  voice  foretells  me  shall  conclude  my  toil. 

Thus  then  I  judge;  while  yet  the  planks  sustain 
The  wild  waves’  fury,  here  I  fix’d  remain; 

But  when  their  texture  to  the  tempests  yields,  460 

I  launch  adventurous  on  the  liquid  fields. 

Join  to  the  help  of  gods  the  strength  of  man. 

And  take  this  method,  since  the  best  I  can.” 

While  thus  his  thoughts  an  anxious  council  hold. 

The  raging  god  a  watery  mountain  roll’d ; 

Like  a  black  sheet  the  whelming  billows  spread. 

Burst  o’er  the  float,  and  thunder’d  on  his  head. 

Planks,  beams,  disparted  fly;  the  scatter’d  wood 
Rolls  diverse,  and  in  fragments  strews  the  flood. 

So  the  rude  Boreas,  o’er  the  field  new-shorn,  470 

Tosses  and  drives  the  scatter’d  heaps  of  corn. 

And  now  a  single  beam  the  chief  bestrides ; 

There  poised  awhile  above  the  bounding  tides. 

His  limbs  discumbers  of  the  clinging  vest, 

And  binds  the  sacred  cincture  round  his  breast: 

Then  prone  on  ocean  in  a  moment  flung. 

Stretch’d  wide  his  eager  arms,  and  shot  the  seas  along. 


100 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  V. 


All  naked  now,  on  heaving  billows  laid, 

Stem  Neptune  eyed  him,  and  contemptuous  said: 

“Go,  learn’d  in  woes,  and  other  foes  essay!  480 

Go,  wander  helpless  on  the  watery  way ; 

Thus,  thus  find  out  the  destined  shore,  and  then 
(If  Jove  ordains  it)  mix  with  happier  men. 

Whatever  thy  fate,  the  ills  our  wrath  could  raise 
Shall  last  remember’d  in  thy  best  of  days.” 

This  said,  his  sea-green  steeds  divide  the  foam, 

And  reach  high  iEgm  and  the  towery  dome. 

Now,  scarce  withdrawn  the  fierce  eai'th-shaking  power, 
Jove’s  daughter  Pallas  watch’d  the  favouring  hour. 

Back  to  their  caves  she  bade  the  winds  to  fly,  490 

And  hush’d  the  blustering  brethren  of  the  sky. 

The  drier  blasts  alone  of  Boreas  sway, 

And  bear  him  soft  on  broken  waves  away; 

With  gentle  force  impelling  to  that  shore. 

Where  Fate  has  destined  he  shall  toil  no  more. 

And  now  two  nights,  and  now  two  days  were  past, 

Since  wide  he  wander’d  on  the  watery  waste ; 

Heaved  on  the  surge  with  intermitting  breath. 

And  hourly  panting  in  the  arms  of  death. 

The  third  fair  morn  now  blazed  upon  the  main;  500 
Then  glassy  smooth  lay  all  the  liquid  plain; 

The  winds  were  hush’d,  the  billows  scarcely  curl’d. 

And  a  dead  silence  still’d  the  watery  world; 

When,  lifted  on  a  ridgy  wave,  he  spies 
The  land  at  distance,  and  with  sharpen’d  eyes. 

As  pious  children  joy  with  vast  delight 
When  a  loved  sire  revives  before  their  sight, 

(Who,  lingering  long,  has  call’d  on  death  in  vain. 

Fix’d  by  some  demon  to  his  bed  of  pain, 

Till  Heaven  by  miracle  his  life  restore;)  510 

So  joys  Ulysses  at  th’  appearing  shore ; 

And  sees  (and  labours  onward  as  he  sees) 

The  rising  forests  and  the  tufted  trees. 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  V. 


101 


And  now,  as  near  approaching  as  the  sound 
Of  human  voice  the  listening  ear  may  wound, 

Amidst  the  rocks  he  hears  a  hollow  roar 
Of  murmuring  surges  breaking  on  the  shore: 

Nor  peaceful  port  was  there,  nor  winding  bay, 

To  shield  the  vessel  from  the  rolling  sea. 

But  cliffs,  and  shaggy  shores,  a  dreadful  sight !  520 

All  rough  with  rocks,  and  foamy  billows  white. 

Fear  seized  his  slacken’d  limbs  and  beating  heart. 

As  thus  communed  he  with  his  soul  apart: 

“Ah  me!  when  o’er  a  length  of  waters  toss’d. 

These  eyes  at  last  behold  th’  unhoped-for  coast, 

No  port  receives  me  from  the  angry  main. 

But  the  loud  deeps  demand  me  back  again. 

Above,  sharp  rocks  forbid  access;  around. 

Roar  the  wild  waves ;  beneath,  is  sea  profound  I 
No  footing  sure  affords  the  faithless  sand,  530 

To  stem  too  rapid,  and  too  deep  to  stand. 

If  here  I  enter,  my  efforts  are  vain. 

Dash’d  on  the  cliffs,  or  heaved  into  the  main: 

Or  round  the  island  if  my  course  I  bend. 

Where  the  ports  open,  or  the  shores  descend. 

Back  to  the  seas  the  rolling  surge  may  sweep. 

And  bury  all  my  hopes  beneath  the  deep. 

Or  some  enormous  whale  the  god  may  send, 

(For  many  such  on  Amphitrite  attend,) 

Too  well  the  turns  of  mortal  chance  I  know,  540 

And  hate  relentless  of  my  heavenly  foe.” 

While  thus  he  thought,  a  monstrous  wave  upbore 
The  chief,  and  dash’d  him  on  the  craggy  shore: 

Torn  was  his  skin,  nor  had  the  ribs  been  whole. 

But  instant  Pallas  enter’d  in  his  soul. 

Close  to  the  cliff  with  both  his  hands  he  clung. 

And  stuck  adherent,  and  suspended  hung. 

Till  the  huge  surge  roll’d  off:  then,  backward  sweep 
The  refluent  tides,  and  plunge  him  in  the  deep. 


102 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  V. 


As  when  the  polypus,  from  forth  his  cave 
Torn  with  full  force,  reluctant  beats  the  wave; 

His  ragged  claws  are  stuck  with  stones  and  sands, 

So  the  rough  rock  had  shagg’d  Ulysses  hands. 

And  now  had  perish’d,  whelm’d  beneath  the  main, 

Th’  unhappy  man;  even  fate  had  been  in  vain; 

But  all-subduing  Pallas  lent  her  power, 

And  prudence  saved  him  in  the  needful  hour. 

Beyond  the  beating  surge  his  course  he  bore 
(A  wider  circle,  but  in  sight  of  shore,) 

With  longing  eyes,  observing  to  survey 
Some  smooth  ascent,  or  safe  sequestered  bay. 

Between  the  parting  rocks  at  length  he  spied 
A  falling  stream  with  gentler  waters  glide: 

Where  to  the  seas  the  shelving  shore  declined. 

And  form’d  a  bay  impervious  to  the  wind. 

To  this  calm  port  the  glad  Ulysses  press’d. 

And  hail’d  the  river,  and  its  god  address’d: 

“Whoe’er  thou  art,  before  whose  stream  unknown 
I  bend,  a  suppliant  at  thy  watery  throne. 

Hear,  azure  king !  nor  let  me  fly  in  vain  570 

To  thee  from  Neptune  and  the  raging  main. 

Heaven  hears  and  pities  hapless  men  like  me. 

For  sacred  ev’n  to  gods  is  misery: 

Let  then  thy  waters  give  the  weary  rest. 

And  save  a  suppliant,  and  a  man  distress’d.” 

He  pray’d,  and  straight  the  gentle  stream  subsides. 
Detains  the  rushing  current  of  his  tides, 

Before  the  wanderer  smooths  the  watery  way. 

And  soft  receives  him  from  the  rolling  sea. 

That  moment,  fainting  as  he  touch’d  the  shore,  580 

He  dropp’d  his  sinewy  arms;  his  knees  no  more 
Perform’d  their  office,  or  his  weight  upheld ; 

His  swoln  heart  heaved ;  his  bloated  body  swell’d ; 

From  mouth  and  nose  the  briny  torrent  ran ; 

And  lost  in  lassitude  lay  all  the  man, 


550 


5G0 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  V. 


103 


Deprived  of  voice,  of  motion,  and  of  breath, 

The  soul  scarce  waking  in  the  arms  of  death. 

Soon  as  warm  life  its  wonted  office  found. 

The  mindful  chief  Leucothea’s  scarf  unbound; 

Observant  of  her  word,  he  turn’d  aside  590 

His  head,  and  cast  it  on  the  rolling  tide. 

Behind  him  far  upon  the  purple  waves 
The  waters  waft  it,  and  the  nymph  receives. 

Now  parting  from  the  stream,  Ulysses  found 
A  mossy  bank  with  pliant  rushes  crown’d ; 

The  bank  he  press’d,  and  gently  kiss’d  the  ground; 
Where,  on  the  flowery  herb  as  soft  he  lay, 

Thus  to  his  soul  the  sage  began  to  say: 

“What  will  ye  next  ordain,  ye  powers  on  high! 

And  yet,  ah!  yet,  what  fates  are  we  to  try?  600 

Here  by  the  stream,  if  I  the  night  out-wear, 

Thus  spent  already,  how  shall  nature  bear 
The  dews  descending,  and  nocturnal  air; 

Or  chilly  vapours,  breathing  from  the  flood 
When  morning  rises?  If  I  take  the  wood. 

And,  in  thick  shelter  of  innumerous  boughs. 

Enjoy  the  comfort  gentle  sleep  allows; 

Though  fenced  from  cold,  and  though  my  toil  be  pass’d. 
What  savage  beasts  may  wander  in  the  waste ! 

Perhaps  I  yet  may  fall  a  bloody  prey  110 

To  prowling  bears  or  lions  in  the  way.” 

Thus  long  debating  in  himself  he  stood ; 

At  length  he  took  the  passage  to  the  wood. 

Whose  shady  horrors  on  a  rising  brow 
Waved  high,  and  frown’d  upon  the  stream  below. 

There  grew  two  olives,  closest  of  the  grove. 

With  roots  entwined,  and  branches  interwove; 

Alike  their  leaves,  but  not  alike  they  smiled 
With  sister-fruits;  one  fertile,  one  was  wild. 

Nor  here  the  sun’s  meridian  rays  had  power, 

Nor  wind  sharp-piercing,  nor  the  rushing  shower.; 


620 


104 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  vT. 


The  verdant  arch  so  close  its  texture  kept. 

Beneath  this  covert  great  Ulysses  crept: 

Of  gathered  leaves  an  ample  bed  he  made 

(Thick  strewn  by  tempest  through  the  bowery  shade) . 

Where  three  at  least  might  winter’s  cold  defy, 

Though  Boreas  raged  along  th’  inclement  sky. 

This  store,  with  joy  the  patient  hero  found. 

And,  sunk  amidst  them,  heaped  the  leaves  around. 

As  some  poor  peasant,  fated  to  reside  630 

Remote  from  neighbours  in  a  forest  wide. 

Studious  to  save  what  human  wants  require. 

In  embers  heaped  preserves  the  seeds  of  fire : 

Hid  in  dry  foliage  thus  Ulysses  lies. 

Till  Pallas  pour’d  soft  slumbers  on  his  eyes; 

And  golden  dreams  (the  gift  of  sweet  repose) 

Lull’d  all  his  cares,  and  banish’d  all  his  woes. 


BOOK  VI. 

Ulysses  discovered  by  Nausicaa. 


Argument. — Pallas,'  appearing*  in  a  dream  to  Nausicase,  (the  oaug-hter  of 
Alcinoiis,  king*  of  Phaeacia,)  commands  her  to  descend  to  the  river,  and 
wash  the  robes  of  state,  in  preparation  to  her  nuptials,  Nausicaa?  g-oes 
with  her  handmaids  to  the  river ;  where,  while  the  garments  are  spread  on 
the  bank,  they  divert  themselves  in  sports.  Their  voices  awake  Ulysses, 
who,  addressing  himself  to  the  princess,  is  by  her  relieved  and  clothed, 
and  receives  directions  in  what  manner  to  apply  to  the  king  and  queen  of 
the  island. 

While  thus  the  weary  wanderer  sunk  to  rest, 

And  peaceful  slumbers  calm’d  his  anxious  breas{; 

The  martial  maid  from  heaven’s  aerial  height 
Swift  to  Phseacia  wing’d  her  rapid  flight. 

In  elder  times  the  soft  Phseacian  train 
In  ease  possess’d  the  wide  Hyperian  plain; 

Till  the  Cyclopean  race  in  arms  arose, 

A  lawless  nation  of  gigantic  foes ; 

Then  great  Nausithoiis  from  Hyperia  far. 

Through  seas  retreating  from  the  sound  of  war,  10 

The  recreant  nation  to  fair  Scheria  led. 

Where  never  science  rear’d  her  laurel’d  head; 

There  round  his  tribes  a  strength  of  wall  he  raised ; 

To  heaven  the  glittering  domes  and  temples  blazed ; 

Just  to  his  realms,  he  parted  grounds  from  grounds. 

And  shared  the  lands,  and  gave  the  lands  their  bounds. 
Now  in  the  silent  grave  the  monarch  lay. 

And  wise  Alcinoiis  held  the  regal  sway. 

To  his  high  palace  through  the  fields  of  air 
The  goddess  shot;  Ulysses  was  her  care.  20 

There,  as  the  night  in  silence  roll’d  away, 

A  heaven  of  charms  divine  Nausicaas  lay; 

Through  the  thick  gloom  the  shining  portals  blaze; 

Two  nymphs  the  portals  guard,  each  nymph  a  Grace. 

5* 


106  the  odyssey,  book  VI. 

Light  as  the  viewless  air,  the  warrior-maid 

Glides  through  the  valves,  and  hovers  round  her  head; 

A  favourite  virgin’s  blooming  form  she  took. 

From  Dymas  sprung,  and  thus  the  vision  spoke: 

“Oh,  indolent!  to  waste  thy  hours  away! 

And  sleep’st  thou  careless  of  the  bridal-day  ?  30 

Thy  spousal  ornament  neglected  lies; 

Arise,  prepare  the  bridal-train,  arise! 

A  just  applause  the  cares  of  dress  impart. 

And  give  soft  transport  to  a  parent’s  heart. 

Haste,  to  the  limpid  stream  direct  thy  way. 

When  the  gay  morn  unveils  her  smiling  ray : 

Haste  to  the  stream !  companion  of  thy  care, 

Lo,  I  thy  steps  attend,  thy  labours  share. 

Virgin,  awake!  the  marriage  hour  is  nigh. 

See !  from  their  thrones  thy  kindred  monarchs  sigh !  40 

The  royal  car  at  early  dawn  obtain, 
t  And  order  mules  obedient  to  the  rein: 

For  rough  the  way,  and  distant  rolls  the  wave. 

Where  their  fair  vests  Phaeacian  virgins  lave. 

In  pomp  ride  forth;  for  pomp  becomes  the  great, 

And  majesty  derives  a  grace  from  state.” 

Then  to  the  palaces  of  heaven  she  sails. 

Incumbent  on  the  wings  of  wafting  gales ; 

The  seat  of  gods:  the  regions  mild  of  peace. 

Full  joy,  and  calm  eternity  of  ease :  50 

There  no  rude  winds  presume  to  shake  the  skies. 

No  rains  descend,  no  snowy  vapours  rise: 

But  on  immortal  thrones  the  bless’d  repose; 

The  firmament  with  living  splendor  glows. 

Hither  the  goddess  wing’d  th’  aerial  way, 

Through  heaven’s  eternal  gates  that  blazed  with  day. 

Now  from  her  rosy  car  Aurora  shed 
The  dawn,  and  all  the  orient  flamed  with  red. 

Up  rose  the  virgin  with  the  morning  light. 

Obedient  to  the  vision  of  the  night.  60 

The  queen  she  sought:  the  queen  her  hours  bestow’d 
In  curious  works;  the  whirling  spindle  glow’d 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  VI. 

With  crimson  threads,  while  busy  damsels  cull 
The  snowy  fleece,  or  twist  the  purpled  wool. 
Meanwhile,  Phseacia’s  peers  in  council  sate; 

From  his  high  dome  the  king  descends  in  state; 
Then  with  a  filial  awe  the  royal  maid 
Approach’d  him  passing,  and  submissive  said: 

“Will  my  dread  sire  his  ear  regardful  deign, 

And  may  his  child  the  royal  car  obtain? 

Say,  with  thy  garments  shall  I  bend  my  way, 
Where  through  the  vales  the  mazy  waters  stray ! 

A  dignity  of  dress  adorns  the  great. 

And  kings  draw  lustre  from  the  robe  of  state. 

Five  sons  thou  hast;  three  wait  the  bridal-day. 
And  spotless  robes  become  the  young  and  gay ; 

So  when  with  praise  amid  the  dance  they  shine. 
By  these  my  cares  adorn’d,  that  praise  is  mine.” 

Thus  she :  but  blushes,  ill-restrain’d,  betray 
Her  thoughts  intentive  on  the  bridal-day: 

The  conscious  sire  the  dawning  blush  survey’d, 
And,  smiling,  thus  bespoke  the  blooming  maid: 

“  My  child,  my  darling  joy,  the  car  receive ; 

That,  and  whate’er  our  daughter  asks,  we  give.” 

Swift  at  the  royal  nod  th’  attending  train 
The  car  prepare,  the  mules  incessant  rein. 

The  blooming  virgin  with  despatchful  cares 
Tunics,  and  stoles,  and  robes  imperial,  bears. 

The  queen,  assiduous,  to  her  train  assigns 
The  sumptuous  viands,  and  the  flavorous  wines. 
The  train  prepare  a  cruise  of  curious  mould, 

A  cruise  of  fragrance,  form’d  of  burnish’d  gold: 
Odour  divine !  whose  soft  refreshing  streams 
Sleek  the  smooth  skin,  and  scent  the  snowy  limbs. 

Now  mounting  the  gay  seat,  the  silken  reins 
Shine  in  her  hand;  along  the  sounding  plains 
Swift  fly  the  mules:  nor  rode  the  nymph  alone; 
Around,  a  bevy  of  bright  damsels  shone. 

They  seek  the  cisterns  where  Phisacian  dames 
Wash  their  fair  garments  in  the  limpid  streams; 


108 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  VI. 


Where,  gathering  into  depth  from  falling  rills, 

The  lucid  wave  a  spacious  basin  fills. 

The  mules  unharness’d,  range  beside  the  main. 

Or  crop  the  verdant  herbage  of  the  plain. 

Then,  emulous,  the  royal  robes  they  lave. 

And  plunge  the  vestures  in  the  cleansing  wave ; 

(The  vestures  cleansed  o’erspread  the  shelly  sand, 

Their  snowy  lustre  whitens  ail  the  strand;) 

Then  with  a  short  repast  relieve  their  toil. 

And  o’er  their  limbs  diffuse  ambrosial  oil;  110 

And  while  the  robes  imbibe  the  solar  ray. 

O’er  the  green  mead  the  sporting  virgins  play, 

(Their  shining  veils  unbound.)  Along  the  skies 
Toss’d,  and  retoss’d,  the  ball  incessant  flies. 

They  sport,  they  feast:  Nausicaee  lifts  her  voice. 

And,  warbling  sweet,  makes  earth  and  heaven  rejoice. 

As  when  o’er  Erymanth  Diana  roves. 

Or  wide  Taygetus’  resounding  groves; 

A  sylvan  train  the  huntress-queen  surrounds. 

Her  rattling  quiver  from  her  shoulder  sounds:  120 

Fierce  in  the  sport,  along  the  mountain’s  brow 
They  bay  the  boar,  or  chaseThe  bounding  roe ; 

High  o’er  the  lawn,  with  more  majestic  pace. 

Above  the  nymphs  she  treads  with  stately  grace ; 
Distinguish’d  excellence  the  goddess  proves ; 

Exults  Latona,  as  the  virgin  moves: 

With  equal  grace  Nausicase  trod  the  plain. 

And  shone  transcendent  o’er  the  beauteous  train. 

Meantime,  (the  care  and  favourite  of  the  skies) 

Wrapt  in  embowering  shade,  Ulysses  lies.  130 

His  woes  forgot;  but  Pallas  now  address’d 
To  break  the  bands  of  all-composing  rest. 

Forth  from  her  snowy  hand  Nausicase  threw 
The  various  ball;  the  ball  erroneous  flew, 

And  swam  the  stream ;  loud  shrieks  the  virgin  train, 

And  the  loud  shriek  redoubles  from  the  main. 

Waked  by  the  shrilling  sound,  Ulysses  rose. 

And,  to  the  deaf  woods  wailing,  breathed  his  woes. 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  VI, 


109 


“Ah  me!  on  what  inhospitable  coast, 

Or  what  new  region,  is  Ulysses  tost:  140 

Possess’d  by  wild  barbarians  fierce  in  arms; 

Or  men,  whose  bosom  tender  pity  warms? 

What  sounds  are  these  that  gather  from  the  shores? 

The  voice  of  nymphs  that  haunt  the  sylvan  bowers, 

The  fair-hair’d  Dryads  of  the  shady  wood; 

Or  azure  daughters  of  the  silver  flood ; 

Or  human  voice?  but,  issuing  from  the  shades. 

Why  cease  I  straight  to  learn  what  sound  invades?” 

Then,  where  the  grove  with  leaves  umbrageous  bends, 
With  forceful  strength  a  branch  the  hero  rends;  151 
Around  his  loins  the  verdant  cincture  spreads 
A  wreathy  foliage  and  concealing  shade. 

As  when  a  lion  in  the  midnight  hours. 

Beat  by  rude  blasts,  and  wet  with  wintry  showers, 
Descends  terrific  from  the  mountain’s  brow; 

With  living  flames  his  rolling  eye-balls  glow ; 

With  conscious  strength  elate,  he  bends  his  way, 
Majestically  fierce  to  seize  his  prey, 

(The  steer  or  stag;)  or,  with  keen  hunger  bold. 

Springs  o’er  the  fence,  and  dissipates  the  fold:  160 

No  less  a  terror,  from  the  neighbouring  groves 
(Rough  from  the  tossing  surge)  Ulysses  moves; 

Urged  on  by  want,  and  recent  from  the  storms: 

The  brackish  ooze  his  manly  grace  deforms. 

Wide  o’er  the  shore  with  many  a  piercing  cry 
To  rocks,  to  caves,  the  frighted  virgins  fly; 

All  but  the  nymph:  the  nymph  stood  fix’d  alone. 

By  Pallas  arm’d  with  boldness  not  her  own. 

Meantime,  in  dubious  thought  the  king  awaits. 

Ana,  self-considering,  as  he  stands,  debates;  170 

Distant  his  mournful  story  to  declare. 

Or  prostrate  at  her  knee  address  the  prayer. 

But  fearful  to  oflfend,  by  wisdom  sway’d. 

At  awful  distance  he  accosts  the  maid: 

“If  from  the  skies  a  goddess,  or  if  earth 
(Imperial  virgin)  boast  thy  glorious  birth. 


no 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  VI. 


To  thee  I  bend !  If  in  that  bright  disguise 
Thou  visit  earth,  a  daughter  of  the  skies, 

Hail !  Dian,  hail !  the  huntress  of  the  groves 
So  shines  majestic,  and  so  stately  moves,  180 

So  breathes  an  air  divine !  But  if  thy  race 
Be  mortal,  and  this  earth  thy  native  place, 

Bless’d  is  the  father  from  "whose  loins  you  sprung, 

Bless’d  is  the  mother  at  whose  breast  you  hung, 

Bless’d  are  the  brethren  who  thy  blood  divide, 

To  such  a  miracle  of  charms  allied: 

Joyful  they  see  applauding  princes  gaze. 

When  stately  in  the  dance  you  swim  th’  harmonious  maze. 
But  bless’d  o’er  all,  the  youth  with  heavenly  charms. 

Who  clasps  the  bright  perfection  in  his  arms!  190 

Never,  I  never  view’d  till  this  bless’d  hour, 

Such  finish’d  grace  1  I  gaze,  and  I  adore  1 

Thus  seems  the  palm,  with  stately  honours  crown  d 

By  Phmbus’  altars,  thus  o’erlooks  the  ground; 

The  pride  of  Delos.  (By  the  Delian  coast, 

I  voyaged,  leader  of  a  warrior-host. 

But,  ah,  how  changed!  from  thence  my  sorrow  flows; 

Oh,  fatal  voyage,  source  of  all  my  woes !) 

Raptured  I  stood,  and,  as  this  hour  amazed. 

With  reverence  at  the  lofty  wonder  gazed:  200 

Raptured  I  stand !  for  earth  ne’er  knew  to  bear 
A  plant  so  stately,  or  a  nymph  so  fair. 

Awed  from  access,  I  lift  my  suppliant  hands ; 

For  misery,  oh  queen,  before  thee  stands ! 

Twice  ten  tempestuous  nights  I  roll’d,  resign’d 
To  roaring  billows,  and  the  warring  wind : 

Heaven  bade  the  deep  to  spare!  but  Heaven,  my  foe. 
Spares  only  to  inflict  some  mightier  wo! 

Inured  to  cares,  to  death  in  all  its  forms. 

Outcast  I  rove,  familiar  with  the  storms!  210 

Once  more  I  view  the  face  of  human  kind : 

Oh,  let  soft  pity  touch  thy  generous  mind! 

Unconscious  of  what  air  I  breathe,  I  stand 
Naked,  defenceless,  on  a  foreign  land. 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  VI. 


Ill 


Propitious  to  my  wants,  a  vest  supply 
To  guard  the  wretched  from  th’  inclement  sky: 

So  may  the  gods,  who  heaven  and  earth  control. 

Crown  the  chaste  wishes  of  thy  virtuous  soul ! 

On  thy  soft  hours  their  choicest  blessings  shed; 

Bless’d  with  a  husband  be  thy  bridal-bed;  220 

Bless’d  be  thy  husband  with  a  blooming  race, 

And  lasting  union  crown  your  blissful  days. 

The  gods,  when  they  supremely  bless,  bestow 
Firm  union  on  their  favourites  below: 

Then  envy  grieves,  with  inly-pining  hate: 

The  good  exult,  and  Heaven  is  in  our  state.” 

To  whom  the  nymph:  “Oh,  stranger!  cease  thy  care: 
Wise  is  thy  soul,  but  man  is  born  to  bear: 

Jove  weighs  affairs  of  earth  in  dubious  scales. 

And  the  good  suffers,  while  the  bad  prevails.  230 

Bear,  with  a  soul  resign’d,  the  will  of  Jove: 

Who  breathes,  must  mourn:  thy  woes  are  from  above. 
But  since  thou  tread’st  our  hospitable  shore, 

’Tis  mine  to  bid  the  wretched  grieve  no  more, 

To  clothe  the  naked,  and  thy  way  to  guide: 

Know,  the  Phasacian  tribes  this  land  divide; 

From  great  Alcinoiis’  royal  loins  I  spring, 

A  happy  nation,  and  a  happy  king.” 

Then  to  her  maids:  “Why,  why,  ye  coward  train, 
These  fears,  this  flight?  ye  fear  and  fly  in  vain.  240 
Dread  ye  a  foe?  dismiss  that  idle  dread, 

’Tis  death  with  hostile  steps  these  shores  to  tread : 

Safe  in  the  love  of  Heaven,  an  ocean  flows 
Around  our  realm,  a  barrier  from  the  foes ; 

’Tis  ours  this  son  of  sorrow  to  relieve. 

Cheer  the  sad  heart,  nor  let  affliction  grieve. 

By  Jove  the  stranger  and  the  poor  are  sent; 

And  what  to  those  we  give,  to  Jove  is  lent. 

Then  food  supply,  and  bathe  his  fainting  limbs 
Where  waving  shades  obscure  the  mazy  streams.”  250 
Obedient  to  the  call,  the  chief  they  guide 
To  the  calm  current  of  the  secret  tide: 


112 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  V?. 


Close  by  the  stream  a  royal  dress  they  lay, 

A  vest  and  robe  with  rich  embroidery  gay : 

Then  unguents  in  a  vase  of  gold  supply, 

That  breathed  a  fragrance  through  the  balmy  sky. 

To  them  the  king:  “No  longer  I  detain 
Your  friendly  care;  retire,  ye  virgin  train! 

Retire,  while  from  my  wearied  limbs  I  lave 

The  foul  pollution  of  the  briny  wave.  260 

Ye  gods!  since  this  worn  frame  refection  knew. 

What  scenes  have  I  survey’d  of  dreadful  view  I 
But,  nymphs,  recede!  sage  chastity  denies 
To  raise  the  blush,  or  pain  the  modest  eyes.” 

The  nymphs  withdrawn,  at  once  into  the  tide 
Active  he  bounds ;  the  flashing  waves  divide : 

O’er  all  his  limbs  his  hands  the  wave  diffuse, 

And  from  his  locks  compress  the  weedy  ooze ; 

The  balmy  oil,  a  fragrant  shower,  he  sheds: 

Then,  dress’d,  in  pomp  magnificently  treads.  270 

The  warrior-goddess  gives  his  frame  to  shine 
With  majesty  enlarged,  and  air  divine: 

Back  from  his  brows  a  length  of  hair  unfurls. 

His  hyacinthine  locks  descend  in  wavy  curls. 

As  by  some  artist  to  whom  Vulcan  gives 
His  skill  divine,  a  breathing  statue  lives ; 

By  Pallas  taught,  he  frames  the  wondrous  mould. 

And  o’er  the  silver  pours  the  fusile  gold: 

So  Pallas  his  heroic  frame  improves 
With  heavenly  bloom,  and  like  a  god  he  moves.  280 
A  fragrance  breathes  around ;  majestic  grace 
Attends  his  steps ;  th’  astonish’d  virgins  gaze. 

Soft  he  reclines  along  the  murmuring  seas. 

Inhaling  freshness  from  the  fanning  breeze. 

The  wondering  nymph  his  glorious  port  survey’d. 

And  to  her  damsels,  with  amazement,  said: 

“Not  without  care  divine  the  stranger  treads 
This  land  of  joy;  his  steps  some  godhead  leads: 

Would  Jove  destroy  him,  sure  he  had  been  driven 
Far  from  this  realm,  the  favourite  isle  of  Heaven. 


290 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  VI. 

Late  a  sad  spectacle  of  wo,  he  trod 
The  desert  sands,  and  now  he  looks  a  god. 

Oh,  Heaven !  in  my  connubial  hour  decree 
This  man  my  spouse,  or  such  a  spouse  as  he. — 

But  haste,  the  viands  and  the  bowl  provide.” 

The  maids  the  viands  and  the  bowl  supplied: 

Eager  he  fed,  for  keen  his  hunger  raged. 

And  with  the  generous  vintage  thirst  assuaged. 

Now  on  return  her  care  Nausicase  bends. 

The  robes  resumes,  the  glittering  car  ascends. 

Far  blooming  o’er  the  field ;  and  as  she  press’d 
The  splendid  seat,  the  listening  chief  address’d: 

Stranger,  arise!  the  sun  rolls  down  the  day; 

Lo,  to  the  palace  I  direct  the  way ;  ■ 

Where  in  high  state  the  nobles  of  the  land 
Attend  my  royal  sire,  a  radiant  band. 

But  hear,  though  wisdom  in  thy  soul  presides, 

Speaks  from  thy  tongue,  and  every  action  guides ; 
Advance  at  distance,  while  I  pass  the  plain 
Where  o’er  the  furrows  waves  the  golden  grain:  310 

Alone  I  reascend. — With  airy  mounds 
A  strength  of  wall  the  guarded  city  bounds ; 

The  jutting  land  two  ample  bays  divides; 

Full  through  the  narrow  mouths  descend  the  tides: 

The  spacious  basin  arching  rocks  enclose, 

A  sure  defence  from  every  storm  that  blows. 

Close  to  the  bay  g*reat  Neptune’s  fane  adjoins, 

And  near,  a  forum  flank’d  with  marble  shines, 

Where  the  bold  youth,  the  numerous  fleets  to  store. 

Shape  the  broad  sail,  or  smooth  the  taper  oar:  320 

For  not  the  bow  they  bend,  nor  boast  the  skill 
To  give  the  feather’d  arrow  wings  to  kill; 

But  the  tall  mast  above  the  vessel  rear. 

Or  teach  the  fluttering  sail  to  float  in  air. 

They  rush  into  the  deep  with  eager  joy, 

Climb  the  steep  surge,  and  through  the  tempest  fly; 

A  proud,  unpolish’d  race. — To  me  belongs 
The  care  to  shun  the  blast  of  slanderous  tongues, 

H 


113 


300 


114 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  VI. 


Lest  malice,  prone  the  virtuous  to  defame, 

Thus  with  vile  censure  taint  my  spotless  name: 

“‘What  stranger  this  whom  thus  Nausicase  leads? 
Heavens !  with  what  graceful  majesty  he  treads ! 
Perhaps  a  native  of  some  distant  shore. 

The  future  consort  of  her  bridal-hour; 

Or  rather  some  descendant  of  the  skies: 

Won  by  her  prayer,  th’  aerial  bridegroom  flies. 
Heaven  on  that  hour  its  choicest  influence  shed, 
That  gave  a  foreign  spouse  to  crown  her  bed! 

All,  all  the  godlike  worthies  that  adorn 
This  realm,  she  flies :  Phmacia  is  her  scorn.’ 

“And  just  the  blame:  for  female  innocence 
Not  only  flies  the  guilt,  but  shuns  th’  offence; 

Th’  unguarded  virgin,  as  unchaste,  I  blame; 

And  the  least  freedom  with  the  sex  is  shame, 

Till  our  consenting  sires  a  spouse  provide, 

And  public  nuptials  justify  the  bride. 

“But  would’st  thou  soon  review  thy  native  plain? 
Attend,  and  speedy  thou  shalt  pass  the  main: 

Nigh  where  a  grove  with  verdant  poplars  crown’d, 
To  Pallas  sacred,  shades  the  holy  ground. 

We  bend  our  way:  a  bubbling  fount  distils 
A  lucid  lake,  and  thence  descends  in  rills; 

Around  the  grove,  a  mead  with  lively  green 
Falls  by  degrees,  and  forms  a  beauteous  scene; 
Here  a  rich  juice  the  royal  vineyard  pours ; 

And  there  the  garden  yields  a  waste  of  flowers. 
Hence  lies  the  town,  as  far  as  to  the  ear 
Floats  a  long  shout  along  the  waves  of  air. 

There  wait  embower’d,  while  I  ascend  alone 
To  great  Alcinoiis  on  his  royal  throne.  _ 
Arrived,  advance,  impatient  of  delay,  ^ 

And  to  the  lofty  palace  bend  thy  way: 

The  lofty  palace  overlooks  the  town. 

From  every  dome  by  pomp  superior  known ; 

A  child  may  point  the  way.  With  earnest  gait 
Seek  thou  the  queen  along  the  rooms  of  state; 


830 


340 


350 


360 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  VI. 

Her  royal  hand  a  wondrous  work  designs ; 

Around  a  circle  of  bright  damsels  shines; 

Part  twist  the  threads,  and  part  the  wool  dispose, 
While  with  the  purple  orb  the  spindle  glows. 

High  on  a  throne,  amid  the  Scherian  powers 
My  royal  father  shares  the  genial  hours; 

But  to  the  queen  thy  mournful  tale  disclose. 

With  the  prevailing  eloquence  of  woes: 

So  shalt  thou  view  with  joy  thy  natal  shore. 

Though  mountains  rise  between,  and  oceans  roar.” 

She  added  not;  but  waving  as  she  wheel’d 
The  silver  scourge,  it  glitter’d  o’er  the  field: 

With  skill  the  virgin  guides  th’  embroider’d  rein. 
Slow  rolls  the  car  before  th’  attending  train. 

Now  whirling  down  the  heavens,  the  golden  day 
Shot  through  the  western  clouds  a  dewy  ray; 

The  grove  they  reach,  where  from  the  sacred  shade 
To  Pallas  thus  the  pensive  hero  pray’d: 

“Daughter  of  Jove!  whose  arms  in  thunder  wield 
Th’  avenging  bolt,  and  shake  the  dreadful  shield ; 
Forsook  by  thee,  in  vain  I  sought  thy  aid 
When  booming  billows  closed  above  my  head: 
Attend,  unconquer’d  maid  1  accord  my  vows. 

Bid  the  great  hear,  and  pitying  heal  my  woes.” 

This  heard  Minerva,  but  forebode  to  fly 
(By  Neptune  awed)  apparent  from  the  sky; 

Stern  god!  who  raged  with  vengeance  unrestrain’d, 
Till  great  Ulysses  hail’d  his  native  land. 


115 


370 


380 


390 


BOOK  VII. 

The  Court  of  Alcinous;  Reception  of  Ulysses. 

Argument. — The  princess  Nausicaae  returns  to  the  city,  and  Ulysses  soon 
after  follows  thither.  He  is  met  by  Pallas  in  the  form  of  a  young-  virgin, 
who  guides  him  to  the  palace,  and  directs  him  in  what  manner  to  address 
the  queen  Aretb.  She  then  involves  him  in  a  mist,  which  causes  him  to 
pass  invisible.  The  palace  and  gardens  of  Alcinous  described.  Ulysses, 
falling  at  the  feet  of  the  queen,  the  mist  disperses,  the  Phseacians  admire, 
and  receive  him  with  respect.  The  queen  inquiring  by  what  means  he  had 
the  garments  he  then  wore,  he  relates  to  her  and  Alcinous  his  departure 
from  Calypso,  and  his  arrival  on  their  dominions. 

The  same  day  continues,  and  the  book  ends  with  the  night. 

The  patient,  heavenly  man  thus  suppliant  pray’d; 

While  the  slow  mules  draw  on  th’  imperial  maid: 
Through  the  proud  street  she  moves,  the  public  gaze: 

The  turning  wheel  before  the  palace  stays. 

With  ready  love  her  brothers,  gathering  round, 

Received  the  vestures,  and  the  mules  unbound. 

She  seeks  the  bridal-bower:  a  matron  there 
The  rising  fire  supplies  with  busy  care, 

Whose  charms  in  youth  her  father’s  heart  inflamed, 

Now  worn  with  age,  Eurymedusa  named:  10 

The  captive  dame  Phseacian  rovers  bore, 

Snatch’d  from  Epirus,  her  sweet  native  shore, 

(A  grateful  prize,)  and  in  her  bloom  bestow’d 
On  good  Alcinous,  honour’d  as  a  god; 

Nurse  of  Nausicaae  from  her  infant  years, 

And  tender  second  to  a  mother’s  cares. 

Now  from  the  sacred  thicket  where  he  lay. 

To  town  Ulysses  took  the  winding  way. 

Propitious  Pallas,  to  secure  her  care. 

Around  him  spread  a  veil  of  thicken’d  air:  20 

To  shun  th’  encounter  of  the  vulgar  crowd, 

Insulting  still,  inquisitive  and  loud. 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  VII. 


117 


When  near  the  famed  Phaeacian  walls  he  drew, 

The  beauteous  city  opening  to  his  view, 

His  step  a  virgin  met,  and  stood  before: 

A  polish’d  urn  the  seeming  virgin  bore, 

And  youthful  smiled;  but  in  the  low  disguise 
Lay  hid  the  goddess  with  the  azure  eyes. 

“Show  me,  fair  daughter,”  thus  the  chief  demands, 
“The  house  of  him  who  rules  these  happy  lands.  30 
Through  many  woes  and  wanderings,  lo !  I  come 
To  good  Alcinoiis’  hospitable  dome. 

Far  from  my  native  coast,  I  rove  alone, 

A  wretched  stranger,  and  of  all  unknown!” 

The  goddess  answer’d,  “Father,  I  obey. 

And  point  the  wandering  traveller  his  way; 

Well  known  to  me  the  palace  you  inquire, 

For  fast  beside  it  dwells  my  honour’d  sire: 

But  silent  march,  nor  greet  the  common  train 

With  questions  needless,  or  inquiry  vain:  40 

A  race  of  rugged  mariners  are  these: 

Unpolish’d  men,  and  boisterous  as  their  seas; 

The  native  islanders  alone  their  care. 

And  hateful  he  who  breathes  a  foreign  air. 

These  did  the  ruler  of  the  deep  ordain 
To  build  proud  navies,  and  command  the  main; 

On  canvas- wings  to  cut  the  watery  way: 

No  bird  so  light,  no  thought  so  swift  as  they.” 

Thus  having  spoke,  th’  unknown  celestial  leads: 

The  footstep  of  the  deity  he  treads,  50 

And  secret  moves  along  the  crowded  space. 

Unseen  of  all  the  rude  Phaeacian  race. 

(So  Pallas  order’d.  Pallas  to  their  eyes 
The  mist  objected,  and  condensed  the  skies.) 

The  chief  with  wonder  sees  th’  extended  streets, 

The  spreading  harbours,  and  the  riding  fleets ; 

He  next  their  princes’  lofty  domes  admires. 

In  separate  islands,  crown’d  with  rising  spires; 

And  deep  entrenchments,  and  high  walls  of  stone, 

That  gird  the  city  like  a  marble  zone. 


60 


118 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  VII. 


At  length  the  kingly  palace-gates  he  view’d; 

There  stopp’d  the  goddess,  and  her  speech  renew’d: 

“  My  task  is  done ;  the  mansion  you  inquire 
Appears  before  you:  enter  and  admire. 

High-throned,  and  feasting,  there  thou  shalt  behold 
The  sceptred  rulers.  Fear  not,  but  be  bold: 

A  decent  boldness  ever  meets  with  friends. 

Succeeds,  and  ev’n  a  stranger  recommends. 

First  to  the  queen  prefer  a  suppliant’s  claim, 

Alcinous’  queen,  Aret^  is  her  name,  *70 

The  same  her  parents,  and  her  power  the  same. 

For  know,  from  Ocean’s  god  Nausithous  sprung. 

And  Periboea,  beautiful  and  young: 

(Eurymedon’s  last  hope,  who  ruled  of  old 
The  race  of  giants,  impious,  proud,  and  bold ; 

Perish’d  the  nation  in  unrighteous  war. 

Perish’d  the  prince,  and  left  this  only  heir ; 

Who  now  by  Neptune’s  amorous  power  compress’d, 
Produced  a  monarch  that  his  people  bless’d, 

Father  and  prince  of  the  Phseacian  name;  80 

From  him  Rhexenor  and  Alcinous  came. 

The  first  by  Phoebus’  burning  arrows  fired. 

New  from  his  nuptials,  hapless  youth!  expired. 

No  son  survived:  Arete  heir’d  his  state. 

And  her  Alcinous  chose  his  royal  mate. 

With  honours  yet  to  womankind  unknown, 

This  queen  he  graces,  and  divides  the  throne ; 

In  equal  tenderness  her  sons  conspire. 

And  all  the  children  emulate  their  sire. 

When  through  the  streets  she  gracious  deigns  to  move,  90 
(The  public  wonder  and  the  public  love,) 

The  tongues  of  all  with  transport  sound  her  praise, 

The  eyes  of  all,  as  on  a  goddess,  gaze. 

She  feels  the  triumph  of  a  generous  breast ; 

To  heal  divisions,  to  relieve  th’  oppress’d ; 

In  virtue  rich ;  in  blessing  others,  bless’d. 

Go  then  secure,  thy  humble  suit  prefer. 

And  owe  thy  country  and  thy  friends  to  her.” 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  VII. 


119 


With  that  the  goddess  deign’d  no  longer  stay, 

But  o’er  the  world  of  waters  wing’d  her  way:  100 

Forsaking  Scheria’s  ever-pleasing  shore, 

The  winds  to  Marathon  the  virgin  bore; 

Thence,  where  proud  Athens  rears  her  towery  head. 
With  opening  streets  and  shining  structures  spread. 

She  pass’d,  delighted  with  the  well-known  seats; 

And  to  Erectheus’  sacred  dome  retreats. 

Meanwhile,  Ulysses  at  the  palace  waits, 

There  stops,  and  anxious  with  his  soul  debates, 

Fix’d  in  amaze  before  the  royal  gates.' 

The  front  appeared  with  radiant  splendours  gay,  110 
Bright  as  the  lamp  of  night,  or  orb  of  day. 

The  walls  were  massy  brass:  the  cornice  high 
Blue  metals  crown’d,  in  colours  of  the  sky: 

Rich  plates  of  gold  the  folding-doors  incase; 

The  pillars  silver,  on  a  brazen  base; 

Silver  the  lintels,  deep  projecting  o’er. 

And  gold  the  ringlets  that  command  the  door. 

Two  rows  of  stately  dogs  on  either  hand. 

In  sculptured  gold  and  laboured  silver  stand. 

These  Vulcan  form’d  with  art  divine,  to  wait  120 

Immortal  guardians  at  Alcinoiis’  gate; 

Alive  each  animated  frame  appears. 

And  still  to  live  beyond  the  power  of  years. 

Fair  thrones  within  from  space  to  space  were  raised; 
Where  various  carpets  with  embroidery  blazed, 

The  work  of  matrons:  these  the  princes  press’d. 

Day  following  day,  a  long-continued  feast. 

Refulgent  pedestals  the  walls  surround. 

Which  boys  of  gold  with  flaming  torches  crown’d; 

The  polish’d  ore,  reflecting  every  ray,  130 

Blazed  on  the  banquets  with  a  double  day. 

Full  fifty  handmaids  form  the  household  train ; 

Some  turn  the  mill,  or  sift  the  golden  grain ; 

Some  ply  the  loom ;  their  busy  fingers  move 
Like  poplar  leaves  when  Zephyr  fans  the  grove. 

Not  more  renown’d  the  men  of  Scheria’s  isle 
For  sailing  arts  and  all  the  naval  toil, 


120 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  VII. 


Than  works  of  female  skill  their  women’s  pride, 

The  flying  shuttle  through  the  threads  to  guide: 

Pallas  to  these  her  double  gifts  imparts,  140 

Inventive  genius  and  industrious  arts. 

Close  to  the  gate  a  spacious  garden  lies, 

From  storms  defended  and  inclement  skies. 

Four  acres  was  th’  allotted  space  of  ground,  ‘ 

Fenced  with  a  green  enclosure  all  around. 

Tall  thriving  trees  confess’d  the  fruitful  mould; 

The  reddening  apple  ripens  here  to  gold. 

Here  the  blue  fig  with  luscious  juice  o’erflows, 

With  deeper  red  the  full  pomegranate  glows, 

The  branch  here  bends  beneath  the  weighty  pear, 

And  verdant  olives  flourish  round  the  year.  150 

The  balmy  spirit  of  the  western  gale 
Eternal  breathes  on  fruits,  untaught  to  fail: 

Each  dropping  pear  a  following  pear  supplies, 

On  apples,  apples;  figs  on  figs  arise: 

The  same  mild  season  gives  the  blooms  to  blow, 

The  buds  to  harden,  and  the  fruits  to  grow. 

Here  order’d  vines  in  equal  ranks  appear. 

With  all  th’  united  labours  of  the  year; 

Some  to  unload  the  fertile  branches  run,  160 

Some  dry  the  blackening  clusters  in  the  sun. 

Others  to  tread  the  liquid  harvest  join. 

The  groaning  presses  foam  with  floods  of  wine. 

Here  are  the  vines  in  early  flower  descried. 

Here  grapes  discolour’d  on  the  sunny  side. 

And  there  in  autumn’s  richest  purple  dyed. 

Beds  of  all  various  herbs,  for  ever  green. 

In  beauteous  order  terminate  the  scene. 

Two  plenteous  fountains  the  whole  prospect  crown’d; 
This  through  the  garden  leads  its  streams  around,  170 
Visits  each  plant,  and  waters  all  the  ground; 

While  that  in  pipes  beneath  the  palace  flows. 

And  thence  its  current  on  the  town  bestows : 

To  various  use  their  various  streams  they  bring. 

The  people  one,  and  one  supplies  the  king. 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  VII. 


121 


Such  were  the  glories  which  the  gods  ordain’d 
To  grace  Alcinoiis  and  his  happy  land. 

Even  from  the  chief,  who  men  and  nations  knew, 

Th’  unwonted  scene  surprise  and  rapture  drew: 

In  pleasing  thought  he  ran  the  prospect  o’er,  180 

Then  hasty  enter’d  at  the  lofty  door. 

Night  now  approaching,  in  the  palace  stand. 

With  goblets  crown’d,  the  rulers  of  the  land ; 

Prepared  for  rest,  and  offering  to  the  god* 

Who  bears  the  virtue  of  the  sleepy  rod. 

Unseen  he  glided  through  the  joyous  crowd. 

With  darkness  circled,  and  an  ambient  cloud. 

Direct  to  great  Alcinous’  throne  he  came. 

And  prostrate  fell  before  th’  imperial  dame. 

Then  from  around  him  dropp’d  the  veil  of  night;  190 
Sudden  he  shines,  and  manifest  to  sight. 

The  nobles  gaze,  with  awful  fear  oppress’d; 

Silent  they  gaze,  and  eye  the  godlike  guest. 

“Daughter  of  great  Rhexenor !”  thus  began. 

Low  at  her  knees,  the  much-enduring  man, 

“To  thee,  thy  consort,  and  this  royal  train. 

To  all  that  share  the  blessings  of  your  reign, 

A  suppliant  bends :  oh,  pity  human  wo ! 

’Tis  what  the  happy  to  th’  unhappy  owe. 

A  wretched  exile  to  his  country  send,  200 

Long  worn  with  griefs,  and  long  without  a  friend ; 

So  may  the  gods  your  better  days  increase, 

And  all  your  joys  descend  on  all  your  race ; 

So  reign  for  ever  on  your  country’s  breast. 

Your  people  blessing,  by  your  people  bless’d!” 

Then  to  the  genial  earth  he  bow’d  his  face, 

And  humbled  in  the  ashes  took  his  place. 

Silence  ensued.  The  eldest  first  began, 

Echeneus  sage,  a  venerable  man. 

Whose  well-taught  mind  the  present  age  surpass’d. 

And  join’d  to  that  th’  experience  of  the  last.  210 


6 


*  Mercury. 


122 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  VII. 


Fit  words  attended  on  his  weighty  sense, 

And  mild  persuasion  flow’d  in  eloquence: 

“Oh,  sight,”  he  cried,  “dishonest  and  unjust! 

A  guest,  a  stranger,  seated  in  the  dust ! 

To  raise  the  lowly  suppliant  from  the  ground 
Befits  a  monarch.  Lo  1  the  peers  around 
But  wait  thy  word,  the  gentle  guest  to  grace. 

And  seat  him  fair  in  some  distinguish’d  place. 

Let  first  the  herald  due  libations  pay 
To  Jove,  who  guides  the  wanderer  on  his  way; 
Then  set  the  genial  banquet  in  his  view. 

And  give  the  stranger-guest  a  stranger’s  due.” 

His  sage  advice  the  listening  king  obeys. 

He  stretch’d  his  hand  the  prudent  chief  to  raise. 
And  from  his  seat  Laodamas  removed, 

(The  monarch’s  offspring,  and  his  best  beloved;) 
There  next  his  side  the  godlike  hero  sate ; 

With  stars  of  silver  shone  the  bed  of  state. 

The  golden  ewer  a  beauteous  handmaid  brings, 
Replenish’d  from  the  cool  translucent  springs. 
Whose  polish’d  vase  with  copious  streams  supplies 
A  silver  laver  of  capacious  size. 

The  table  next  in  regal  order  spread. 

The  glittering  canisters  are  heap’d  with  bread ; 
Viands  of  various  kinds  invite  the  taste. 

Of  choicest  sort  and  savour,  rich  repast  1 
Thus  feasting  high,  Alcinoiis  gave  the  sign. 

And  bade  the  herald  pour  the  rosy  wine. 

“Let  all  around  the  due  libation  pay 

To  Jove,  who  guides  the  wanderer  on  his  way.” 

He  said.  Pontinus  heard  the  king’s  command ; 
The  circling  goblet  moves  from  hand  to  hand ; 
Each  drinks  the  juice  that  glads  the  heart  of  man, 
Alcinoiis  then,  with  aspect  mild,  began: 

“Princes  and  peers,  attend;  while  we  impart 
To  you  the  thoughts  of  no  inhuman  heart. 

Now  pleased  and  satiate  from  the  social  rite 
Repair  we  to  the  blessings  of  the  night ; 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  VII. 

But  with  the  rising  day,  assembled  here, 

Let  all  the  elders  of  the  land  appear, 

Pious  observe  our  hospitable  laws. 

And  heaven  propitiate  in  the  stranger’s  cause ; 

Then,  join’d  in  council,  proper  means  explore 
Safe  to  transport  him  to  the  wish’d-for  shore. 

(How  distant  that,  imports  not  us  to  know, 

Nor  weigh  the  labour,  but  relieve  the  wo.) 

Meantime,  nor  harm  nor  anguish  let  him  bear: 

This  interval.  Heaven  trusts  him  to  our  care; 

But  to  his  native  land  our  charge  resign’d, 

Heaven’s  is  his  life  to  come,  and  all  the  woes  behind. 
Then  must  he  suffer  what  the  Fates  ordain ; 

For  Fate  has  wove  the  thread  of  life  with  pain! 

And  twins  ev’n  from  the  birth  are  misery  and  man  I 
But  if,  descended  from  th’  Olympian  bower. 

Gracious  approach  us  some  immortal  power; 

If  in  that  form  thou  com’st  a  guest  divine. 

Some  high  event  the  conscious  gods  design. 

As  yet,  unhid  they  never  graced  our  feast ; 

The  solemn  sacrifice  call’d  down  the  guest:  270 

Then  manifest  of  heaven  the  vision  stood. 

And  to  our  eyes  familiar  was  the  god. 

Oft  with  some  favour’d  traveller  they  stray. 

And  shine  before  him  all  the  desert  way; 

With  social  intercourse,  and  face  to  face. 

The  friends  and  guardians  of  our  pious  race. 

So  near  approach  we  their  celestial  kind. 

By  justice,  truth,  and  probity  of  mind; 

As  our  dire  neighbours  of  Cyclopean  birth 
Match  in  fierce  wrong  the  giant-sons  of  earth.”  280 
“Let  no  such  thought,”  with  modest  grace  rejoin’d 
The  prudent  Greek,  “possess  the  royal  mind. 

Alas  1  a  mortal,  like  thyself,  am  I ; 

No  glorious  native  of  yon  azure  sky: 

In  form,  ah,  how  unlike  their  heavenly  kind ! 

How  more  inferior  in  the  gifts  of  mind  I 
Alas,  a  mortal  1  most  oppress’d  of  those 
Whom  Fate  has  loaded  with  a  weight  of  woes ; 


123 

250 


260 


124 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  VII. 


By  a  sad  train  of  miseries  alone  a| 

Distinguish’d  long,  and  second  now  to  none !  290  j; 

By  Heaven’s  high  will  compel’d  from  shore  to  shore; 

With  Heaven’s  high  will  prepared  to  suffer  more. 

What  histories  of  toil  could  I  declare ! 

But  still  long-wearied  nature  wants  repair; 

Spent  with  fatigue,  and  shrunk  with  pining  fast. 

My  craving  bowels  still  require  repast. 

Howe’er  the  noble,  suffering  mind  may  grieve  ‘ 

Its  load  of  anguish,  and  disdain  to  live. 

Necessity  demands  our  daily  bread; 

Hunger  is  insolent,  and  will  be  fed.  300 

But  finish,  oh  ye  peers!  what  you  propose. 

And  let  the  morrow’s  dawn  conclude  my  woes. 

Pleased  will  I  suffer  all  the  gods  ordain. 

To  see  my  soil,  my  son,  my  friends,  again. 

That  view  vouchsafed,  let  instant  death  surprise 
With  ever-during  shade  these  happy  eyes!” 

Th’  assembled  peers  with  general  praise  approved 
His  pleaded  reason,  and  the  suit  he  moved. 

Each  drinks  a  full  oblivion  of  his  cares, 

And  to  the  gifts  of  balmy  sleep  repairs.  310 

Ulysses  in  the  regal  walls  alone 
Remain’d:  beside  him,  on  a  splendid  throne, 

Divine  Aret^  and  Alcinous  shone. 

The  queen,  on  nearer  view,  the  guest  survey’d, 

Robed  in  the  garments  her  own  hands  had  made; 

Not  without  wonder  seen.  Then  thus  began. 

Pier  words  addressing  to  the  godlike  man: 

“Cam’st  thou  not  hither,  wondrous  stranger!  say. 

From  lands  remote,  and  o’er  a  length  of  sea? 

Tell,  then,  whence  art  thou?  whence  that  princely  air?  320 
And  robes  like  these,  so  recent  and  so  fair?” 

“Hard  is  the  task,  oh  princess!  you  impose,” 

Thus,  sighing,  spoke  the  man  of  many  woes, 

“The  long,  the  mournful  series  to  relate 
Of  all  my  sorrows,  sent  by  Heaven  and  Fate! 

Yet  what  you  ask,  attend.  An  island  lies 
Beyond  these  tracts,  and  under  other  skies, 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  VII.  125 

Ogygia  named,  in  Ocean’s  watery  arms, 

Where  dwells  Calypso,  dreadful  in  her  charms! 

Remote  from  gods  or  men  she  holds  her  reign,  330 

Amid  the  terrors  of  the  rolling  main. 

Me,  only  me,  the  hand  of  fortune  bore, 

Unbless’d!  to  tread  that  interdicted  shore; 

When  Jove  tremendous  in  the  sable  deeps 
Launch’d  his  red  lightning  at  our  scatter’d  ships; 

Then  all  my  fleet,  and  all  my  followers  lost, 

Sole  on  a  plank,  on  boiling  surges  toss’d. 

Heaven  drove  my  wreck  the  Ogygian  isle  to  find. 

Full  nine  days  floating  to  the  wave  and  wind. 

Met  by  the  goddess  there  with  open  arms,  340 

She  bribed  my  stay  with  more  than  human  charms; 

Nay  promised — vainly  promised — to  bestow 
Immortal  life,  exempt  from  age  and  wo: 

But  all  her  blandishments  successless  prove. 

To  banish  from  my  breast  my  country’s  love. 

I  stay  reluctant  seven  continued  years. 

And  water  her  ambrosial  couch  with  tears. 

The  eighth  she  voluntary  moves  to  part. 

Or  urged  by  Jove,  or  her  own  changeful  heart. 

A  raft  was  form’d  to  cross  the  surging  sea ;  350 

Herself  supplied  the  stores  and  rich  array. 

And  gave  the  gales  to  waft  me  on  the  way. 

In  seventeen  days  appear’d  your  pleasing  coast. 

And  woody  mountains,  half  in  vapours  lost. 

Joy  touch’d  my  soul:  my  soul  was  joy’d  in  vain; 

For  angry  Neptune  roused  the  raging  main; 

The  wild  winds  whistle,  and  the  billows  roar; 

The  splitting  raft  the  furious  tempest  tore; 

And  storms  vindictive  intercept  the  shore. 

Soon  as  their  rage  subsides,  the  seas  I  brave  360 

With  naked  force,  and  shoot  along  the  wave. 

To  reach  this  isle ;  but  there  my  hopes  were  lost, 

The  surge  impel’d  me  on  a  craggy  coast. 

I  chose  the  safer  sea,  and  chanced  to  find 
A  river’s  mouth  impervious  to  the  wind, 


126 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  VII. 


And  clear  of  rocks.  I  fainted  by  the  flood ; 

Then  took  the  shelter  of  the  neighbouring  wood. 

’Twas  night,  and  cover’d  in  the  foliage  deep, 

Jove  plunged  my  senses  in  the  death  of  sleep. 

All  night  I  slept,  oblivious  of  my  pain:  370 

Aurora  dawn’d  and  Phoebus  shined  in  vain; 

Nor,  till  oblique  he  sloped  his  evening  ray. 

Had  Somnus  dried  the  balmy  dews  away. 

Then  female  voices  from  the  shore  I  heard : 

A  maid  amidst  them,  goddess-like  appear’d ; 

To  her  I  sued,  she  pitied  my  distress; 

Like  thee  in  beauty,  nor  in  virtue  less. 

Who  from  such  youth  could  hope  considerate  care? 

In  youth  and  beauty  wisdom  is  but  rare ! 

She  gave  me  life,  relieved  with  just  supplies  .  380 

My  wants,  and  lent  these  robes  that  strike  your  eyes. 
This  is  the  truth:  and,  oh,  ye  powers  on  high! 

Forbid  that  want  should  sink  me  to  a  lie.” 

To  this  the  king:  “Our  daughter  but  express’d 
Her  cares  imperfect  to  our  godlike  guest. 

Suppliant  to  her,  since  first  he  chose  to  pray, 

Why  not  herself  did  she  conduct  the  way. 

And  with  her  handmaids  to  our  court  convey?” 

“Hero  and  king!”  Ulysses  thus  replied, 

“Nor  blame  her  faultless,  nor  suspect  of  pride:  390 

She  bade  me  follow  in  th’  attendant  train ; 

But  fear  and  reverence  did  my  steps  detain. 

Lest  rash  suspicion  might  alarm  thy  mind : 

Man’s  of  a  jealous  and  mistaking  kind.” 

“Far  from  my  soul,”  he  cried,  “the  gods  efface 
All  wrath  ill-grounded,  and  suspicion  base  I 
Whate’er  is  honest,  stranger,  I  approve. 

And  would  to  Phoebus,  Pallas,  and  to  Jove, 

Such  as  thou  art,  thy  thought  and  mine  were  one, 

Nor  thou  unwilling  to  be  call’d  my  son. 

In  such  alliance  could’st  thou  wish  to  join, 

A  palace  stoi-ed  with  treasures  should  be  thine. 


400 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  VII.  127 

But,  if  reluctant,  who  shall  force  thy  stay? 

Jove  bids  to  set  the  stranger  on  his  way, 

And  ships  shall  wait  thee  with  the  morning  ray. 

Till  then,  let  slumber  close  thy  careful  eyes ; 

The  wakeful  mariners  shall  watch  the  skies. 

And  seize  the  moment  when  the  breezes  rise: 

Then  gently  waft  thee  to  the  pleasing  shore. 

Where  thy  soul  rests,  and  labour  is  no  more.  410 

Far  as  Euboea  though  thy  country  lay. 

Our  ships  with  ease  transport  thee  in  a  day. 

Thither  of  old,  earth’s  giant-son*  to  view. 

On  wings  of  winds  with  Rhadamanth  they  flew; 

This  land,  from  whence  their  morning  course  begun. 

Saw  them  returning  with  the  setting  sun. 

Your  eyes  shall  witness  and  confirm  my  tale, 

Our  youth  how  dextrous,  and  how  fleet  our  sail. 

When  justly  timed  with  equal  sweep  they  row. 

And  ocean  whitens  in  long  tracks  below.”  420 

Thus  he.  No  word  th’  experienced  man  replies. 

But  thus  to  Heaven  (and  heavenward  lifts  his  eyes): 

“Oh  Jove!  oh  father!  what  the  king  accords. 

Do  thou  make  perfect!  sacred  be  his  words! 

Wide  o’er  the  world  Alcinoiis  glory  shine ! 

Let  fame  be  his,  and,  ah!  my  country  mine!” 

Meantime,  Aret^,  for  the  hour  of  rest. 

Ordains  the  fleecy  couch  and  covering  vest ; 

Bids  her  fair  train  the  purple  quilts  prepare. 

And  the  thick  carpets  spread  with  busy  care. ,  430 

With  torches  blazing  in  their  hands  they  pass’d. 

And  finish’d  all  their  queen’s  command  with  haste; 

Then  gave  the  signal  to  the  willing  guest: 

He  rose  with  pleasure,  and  retired  to  rest. 

There,  soft-extended  to  the  murmuring  sound 
Of  the  high  porch,  Ulysses  sleeps  profound! 

Within,  released  from  cares,  Alcinoiis  lies: 

And  fast  beside  were  closed  Arete’s  eyes. 


*  Tityus. 


BOOK  VIII. 


Entertainments  given  to  Ulysses. 

Argument. — Alcinoiis  calls  a  council,  in  which  it  is  resolved  to  transport 
Ulysses  into  his  country.  After  which,  splendid  entertainments  are  made, 
where  the  celebrated  musician  and  poet  Demodocus  plays  and  sing's  to  the 
g'uests.  They  next  proceed  to  the  g'ames, — the  race,  the  wrestling",  the 
discus,  &c. — where  Ulysses  casts  a  prodig-ious  length,  to  the  admiration 
of  all  the  spectators.  They  return  again  to  the  banquet,  and  Demodocus 
sings  the  loves  of  Mars  and  Venus.  Ulysses,  after  a  compliment  to  the 
poet,  desires  him  to  sing  the  introduction  of  the  wooden  horse  into  Troyj 
.  which  subject  provoking  his  tears,  Alcinoiis  inquires  of  his  guest  his  name, 
parentage,  and  fortunes. 

Now  fair  Aurora  lifts  her  golden  ray, 

And  all  the  ruddy  orient  flames  with  day : 

Alcinoiis,  and  the  chief,  with  dawning  light. 

Rose  instant  from  the  slumbers  of  the  night ! 

Then  to  the  council-seat  they  bend  their  way. 

And  fill  the  shining  thrones  along  the  bay. 

Meanwhile,  Minerva,  in  her  guardian  care. 

Shoots  from  the  starry  vault  through  fields  of  air ; 

In  form  a  herald  of  the  king,  she  "flies 
From  peer  to  peer,  and  thus  incessant  cries:  10 

“Nobles  and  chiefs  who  rule  Phaeacia’s  states. 

The  king  in  council  your  attendance  waits; 

A  prince  of  grace  divine  your  aid  implores, 

O’er  unknown  seas  arrived  from  unknown  shores.” 

She  spoke ;  and  sudden  with  tumultuous  sounds 
Of  thronging  multitudes  the  shore  rebounds: 

At  once  the  seats  they  fill ;  and  every  eye 
Gazed,  as  before  some  brother  of  the  sky. 

Pallas  with  grace  divine  his  form  improves. 

More  high  he  treads,  and  more  enlarged  he  moves ;  20 

She  sheds  celestial  bloom,  regard  to  draw, 

And  gives  a  dignity  of  mien  to  awe: 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  VIII. 


129 


With  strength  the  future  prize  of  fame  to  play 
And  gather  all  the  honours  of  the  day. 

Then  from  his  glittering  throne  Alcinoiis  rose: 
“Attend/'  he  cried,  “while  we  our  will  disclose. 

Your  present  aid  this  godlike  stranger  craves, 

Toss’d  by  rude  tempest  through  a  war  of  waves: 

Perhaps  from  realms  that  view  the  rising  day. 

Or  nations  subject  to  the  western  ray.  30 

Then  grant,  what  here  all  sons  of  wo  obtain; 

(For  here  affliction  never  pleads  in  vain:) 

Be  chosen  youths  prepared,  expert  to  try 
The  vast  profound,  and  bid  the  vessel  fly; 

Launch  the  tall  bark,  and  order  every  oar; 

Then  in  our  court  indulge  the  genial  hour: 

Instant,  you  sailors,  to  this  task  attend; 

'Swift  to  the  palace,  all  ye  peers,  ascend; 

Let  none  to  strangers  honours  due  disclaim: 

Be  there  Demodocus,  the  bard  of  fame,  40 

Taught  by  the  gods  to  please,  when  high  he  sings 
The  vocal  lay,  responsive  to  the  strings.” 

Thus  spoke  the  prince:  th’  attending  peers  obey; 

In  state  they  move;  Alcinoiis  leads  the  way: 

Swift  to  Demodocus  the  herald  flies. 

At  once  the  sailors  to  their  charge  arise ; 

They  launch  the  vessel,  and  unfurl  the  sails. 

And  stretch  the  swelling  canvas  to  the  gales; 

Then  to  the  palace  move :  a  gathering  throng. 

Youth  and  white  age,  tumultuous  pour  along.  50 

Now  all  accesses  to  the  dome  are  fill’d; 

Eight  boars,  the  choicest  of  the  herd,  are  kill’d! 

Two  beeves,  twelve  fatlings,  from  the  flock  they  bring 
To  crown  the  feast ;  so  wills  the  bounteous  king. 

The  herald  now  arrives,  and  guides  along 
The  sacred  master  of  celestial  song: 

Dear  to  the  Muse  I  who  gave  his  days  to  flow 
With  mighty  blessings,  mix’d  with  mighty  wo; 

With  clouds  of  darkness  quench’d  his  visual  ray. 

But  gave  him  skill  to  raise  the  lofty  lay. 

6*  I 


60 


130 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  VIII. 


High  on  a  radiant  throne  sublime  in  state, 

Encircled  by  huge  multitudes,  he  sate: 

With  silver  shone  the  throne:  his  lyre  well  strung 
To  rapturous  sounds,  at  hand  Pontinus  hung: 

Before  his  seat  a  polish’d  table  shines. 

And  a  full  goblet  foams  with  generous  wines ; 

His  food  a  herald  bore:  and  now  they  fed; 

And  now  the  rage  of  craving  hunger  fled. 

Then,  fired  by  all  the  Muse,  aloud  he  sings 
The  mighty  deeds  of  demi-gods  and  kings: 

From  that  fierce  wrath  the  noble  song  arose. 

That  made  Ulysses  and  Achilles  foes ; 

How  o’er  the  feast  they  doom  the  fall  of  Troy: 

The  stern  debate  Atrides  hears  with  joy: 

For  Heaven  foretold  the  contest,  when  he  trod 
The  marble  threshold  of  the  Delphic  god. 

Curious  to  learn  the  counsels  of  the  sky. 

E’er  yet  he  loosed  the  rage  of  war  on  Troy. 

Touch’d  at  the  song,  Ulysses  straight  resign’d 
To  soft  affliction  all  his  manly  mind : 

Before  his  eyes  the  purple  vest  he  drew, 

Industrious  to  conceal  the  falling  dew: 

But  when  the  music  paused,  he  ceased  to  shed 
The  flowing  tear,  and  raised  his  drooping  head ; 
And,  lifting  to  the  gods  a  goblet  crown’d. 

He  pour’d  a  pure  libation  to  the  ground. 

Transported  with  the  song,  the  listening  train 
Again  with  loud  applause  demand  the  strain : 

Again  Ulysses  veil’d  his  pensive  head. 

Again  unmann’d,  a  shower  of  sorrow  shed; 
Conceal’d  he  wept:  the  king  observed  alone 
The  silent  tear,  and  heard  the  secret  groan ; 

Then  to  the  bard  aloud:  “Oh,  cease  to  sing; 

Dumb  be  thy  voice,  and  mute  th’  harmonious  string 
Enough  the  feast  has  pleased,  enough  the  power 
Of  heavenly  song  has  crown’d  the  genial  hour ! 
Incessant  in  the  games  your  strength  display. 
Contest,  ye  brave,  the  honours  of  the  day ; 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  VIIH 

That,  pleased,  th’  admiring  stranger  may  proclaim 
In  distant  regions  the  Phaeacian  fame: 

None  wield  the  gauntlet  with  so  dire  a  sway. 

Or  swifter  in  the  race  devour  the  way ; 

None  in  the  leap  spring  with  so  strong  a  bound. 
Or  firmer,  in  the  wrestling,  press  the  ground.” 

Thus  spoke  the  king:  th’  attending  peers  obey; 
In  state  they  move,  Alcinous  leads  the  way: 

His  golden  lyre  Demodocus  unstrung. 

High  on  a  column  in  the  palace  hung; 

And,  guided  by  a  herald’s  guardian  cares. 

Majestic  to  the  lists  of  fame  repairs. 

Now  swarms  the  populace:  a  countless  throng. 
Youth  and  hoar  age;  and  man  drives  man  along. 
The  games  begin:  ambitious  of  the  prize, 
Acroneus,  Thoon,  and  Eretmeus  rise; 

The  prize  Ocyalus  and  Prymneus  claim, 

Anchialus  and  Pontius,  chiefs  of  fame. 

There  Proreus,  Neates,  Eratreus,  appear. 

And  famed  Amphialaus,  Polyneus’  heir  ; 

Euryalus  like  Mars  terrific  rose. 

When  clad  in  wrath  he  withers  hosts  of  foes; 
Naubolides  with  grace  unequal’d  shone. 

Or  equafd  by  Laodamas  alone. 

With  these  came  forth  Ambasineus  the  strong ; 
And  three  brave  sons,  from  great  Alcinous  sprung. 

Ranged  in  a  line  the  ready  racers  stand. 

Start  from  the  goal,  and  vanish  o’er  the  strand: 
Swift  as  on  wings  of  wind  upborne  they  fly. 

And  drifts  of  rising  dust  involve  the  sky. 

Before  the  rest,  what  space  the  hinds  allow 
Between  the  mule  and  ox,  from  plough  to  plough, 
Clytonous  sprung:  he  wing’d  the  rapid  way. 

And  bore  th’  unrival’d  honours  of  the  day. 

With  fierce  embrace  the  brawny  wrestlers  join : 
The  conquest,  great  Euryalus,  is  thine. 

Amphialaus  sprung  forward  with  a  bound, 
Superior  in  the  leap,  a  length  of  ground. 


132 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  VIII. 


From  Eratreus’  strong  arm  the  discus  flies, 

And  sings  with  unmatch’d  force  along  the  skies. 

And  Laodam  whirls  high,  with  dreadful  sway. 

The  gloves  of  death,  victorious  in  the  fray.  140 

While  thus  the  peerage  in  the  games  contends. 

In  act  to  speak,  Laodamas  ascends: 

“Oh,  friends!”  he  cries,  “the  stranger  seems  well  skill’d 
To  try  th’  illustrious  labours  of  the  field : 

I  deem  him  brave :  then  grant  the  brave  man’s  claim ; 
Invite  the  hero  to  his  share  of  fame. 

What  nervous  arms  he  boasts  I  how  firm  his  tread  I 
His  limbs  how  turn’d !  how  broad  his  shoulders  spread  I 
By  age  unbroke ! — but  all-consuming  care 
Destroys  perhaps  the  strength  that  time  would  spare : 

Dire  is  the  ocean,  dread  in  all  its  forms!  150 

Man  must  decay,  when  man  contends  with  storms.” 

“Well  hast  thou  spoke,”  Euryalus  replies: 

“  Thine  is  the  guest,  invite  him  thou  to  rise.” 

Swift  at  the  word,  advancing  from  the  crowd. 

He  made  obeisance,  and  thus  spoke  aloud : 

“Vouchsafes  the  reverend  stranger  to  display 
His  manly  worth,  and  share  the  glorious  day? 

Father,  arise !  for  thee  thy  port  proclaims 

Expert  to  conquer  in  the  solemn  games.  1 60 

To  fame  arise !  for  what  more  fame  can  yield 

Than  the  swift  race,  or  conflict  in  the  field? 

Steal  from  corroding  care  one  transient  day. 

To  glory  give  the  space  thou  hast  to  stay; 

Short  is  the  time,  and,  lo!  even  now  the  gales 
Call  thee  aboard,  and  stretch  the  swelling  sails.” 

To  whom  with  sighs  Ulysses  gave  reply: 

“  Ah !  why  th’  ill-suiting  pastime  must  I  try  ? 

To  gloomy  care  my  thoughts  alone  are  free: 

Ill  the  gay  sports  with  troubled  hearts  agree:  170 

Sad  from  my  natal  hour  my  days  have  ran, 

A  much-afflicted,  much-enduring  man ! 

Who,  suppliant  to  the  king  and  peers,  implores 
A  speedy  voyage  to  his  native  shores.” 


THU  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  VIII. 


133 


“Wide  wanders,  Laodam,  thy  erring  tongue, 

The  sports  of  glory  to  the  brave  belong,”  - 
Retorts  Euryalus:  “he  boasts  no  claim 
Among  the  great,  unlike  the  sons  of  Fame. 

A  wandering  merchant,  he  frequents  the  main; 

Some  mean  sea-farer  in  pursuit  of  gain;  180 

Studious  of  freight,  in  naval  trade  well  skill’d, 

But  dreads  th’  athletic  labours  of  the  field.” 

Incensed,  Ulysses  with  a  frown  replies :  * 

“Oh,  forward  to  proclaim  thy  soul  unwise! 

With  partial  hands  the  gods  their  gifts  dispense ; 

Some  greatly  think,  some  speak  with  manly  sense ; 

Here  Heaven  an  elegance  of  form  denies. 

But  wisdom  the  defect  of  form  supplies: 

This  man  with  energy  of  thought  controls. 

And  steals  with  modest  violence  our  souls;  190 

He  speaks  reserv’dly,  but  he  speaks  with  force. 

Nor  can  one  word  be  changed  but  for  a  worse; 

In  public  more  than  mortal  he  appears. 

And,  as  he  moves,  the  gazing  crowd  reveres. 

While  others,  beauteous  as  th’  ethereal  kind. 

The  nobler  portion  want,  a  knowing  mind. 

In  outward  show  Heaven  gives  thee  to  excel. 

But  Heaven  denies  the  praise  of  thinking  well. 

Ill  bear  the  brave  a  rude  ungovern’d  tongue. 

And,  youth,  my  generous  soul  resents  the  wrong:  200 

Skill’d  in  heroic  exercise,  I  claim 
A  post  of  honour  with  the  sons  of  Fame. 

Such  was  my  boast  while  vigour  crown’d  my  days; 

Now  care  surrounds  me,  and  my  force  decays; 

Inured  a  melancholy  part  to  bear. 

In  scenes  of  death,  by  tempest  and  by  war. 

Yet  thus  by  woes  impair’d,  no  more  I  waive 
To  prove  the  hero — slander  stings  the  brave.” 

Then  striding  forward  with  a  furious  bound. 

He  wrench’d  a  rocky  fragment  from  the  ground,  210 
By  far  more  ponderous,  and  more  huge  by  far, 

Than  what  Phceacia’s  sons  discharged  in  air. 


134  the  odyssey,  BOOK  VIII. 

Fierce  from  his  arm  th’  enormous  load  he  flings; 
Sonorous  through  the  shaded  air  it  sings; 

Couch’d  to  the  earth,  tempestuous  as  it  flies, 

The  crowd  gaze  upward  while  it  cleaves  the  skies. 
Beyond  all  marks,  with  many  a  giddy  round 
Down-rushing,  it  upturns  a  hill  of  ground. 

That  instant  Pallas,  bursting  from  a  cloud, 

Fix’d  a  distinguish’d  mark,  and  cried  aloud: 

“Ev’n  he  who,  sightless,  wants  his  visual  ray. 
May,  by  his  touch  alone,  award  the  day: 

Thy  signal  throw  transcends  the  utmost  bound 
Of  every  champion  by  a  length  of  ground : 

Securely  bid  the  strongest  of  the  train 
Arise  to  throw;  the  strongest  throws  in  vain.” 

She  spoke;  and  momentary  mounts  the  sky; 

The  friendly  voice  Ulysses  hears  with  joy ; 

Then  thus  aloud,  (elate  with  decent  pride,) 

“  Rise,  ye  Phseacians !  try  your  force,”  he  cried ; 

“If  with  this  throw  the  strongest  caster  vie. 

Still,  further  still,  I  bid  the  discus  fly. 

Stand  forth,  ye  champions,  who  the  gauntlet  wield. 
Or  ye,  the  swiftest  racers  of  the  field ! 

Stand  forth,  ye  wrestlers,  who  these  pastimes  grace! 
I  wield  the  gauntlet,  and  I  run  the  race. 

In  such  heroic  games  I  yield  to  none. 

Or  yield  to  brave  Laodamas  alone: 

Shall  I  with  brave  Laodamas  contend? 

A  friend  is  sacred,  and  I  style  him  friend. 
Ungenerous  were  the  man,  and  base  of  heart. 

Who  takes  the  kind,  and  pays  th’  ungrateful  part; 
Chiefly  the  man,  in  foreign  realms  confined. 

Base  to  his  friend,  to  his  own  interest  blind: 

All,  all  your  heroes,  I  this  day  defy; 

Give  me  a  man,  that  we  our  might  may  try. 

Expert  in  every  art,  I  boast  the  skill 
To  give  the  feather’d  arrow  wings  to  kill: 

Should  a  whole  host  at  once  discharge  the  bow. 

My  well-aim’d  shaft  with  death  prevents  the  foe: 


220 


230 


240 


250 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  Vlll. 

Alone  superior  in  the  field  of  Troy, 

Great  Philoctetes  taught  the  shaft  to  fly. 

From  all  the  sons  of  earth  unrival’d  praise 
I  justly  claim ;  but  yield  to  better  days, 

To  those  famed  days  when  great  Alcides  rose. 

And  Eurytus,  who  bade  the  gods  be  foes: 

(Vain  Eurytus,  whose  art  became  his  crime. 

Swept  from  the  earth,  he  perish’d  in  his  prime ; 

Sudden  th’  irremeable  way  he  trod, 

Who  boldly  durst  defy  the  bowyer-god.) 

In  fighting  fields  as  far  the  spear  I  throw 
As  flies  an  arrow  from  the  well-drawn  bow. 

Sole  in  the  race  the  contest  I  decline. 

Stiff*  are  my  weary  joints,  and  I  resign ; 

By  storms  and  hunger  worn:  age  well  may  fail, 

VJ^hen  storms  and  hunger  both  at  once  assail.” 

Abash’d,  the  numbers  hear  the  godlike  man. 

Till  great  Alcinoiis  mildly  thus  began: 

‘‘Well  hast  thou  spoke,  and  well  thy  generous  tongue 
With  decent  pride  refutes  a  public  wrong:  270 

Warm  are  thy  words,  but  warm  without  offence; 

Fear  only  fools,  secure  in  men  of  sense : 

Thy  worth  is  known.  Then  hear  our  country’s  claim, 
And  bear  to  heroes  our  heroic  fame : 

In  distant  realms  our  glorious  deeds  display. 

Repeat  them  frequent  in  the  genial  day ; 

When  bless’d  with  ease  thy  woes  and  wanderings  end, 
Teach  them  thy  consort,  bid  thy  sons  attend ; 

How  loved  of  Jove,  he  crown’d  our  sires  with  praise, 
How  we,  their  offspring,  dignify  our  race. —  280 

Let  other  realms  the  deathful  gauntlet  wield. 

Or  boast  the  glories  of  th’  athletic  field ; 

We  in  the  course  unrivafd  speed  display. 

Or  through  cerulean  billows  plough  the  way; 

To  dress,  to  dance,  to  sing,  our  sole  delight. 

The  feast  or  bath  by  day,  and  love  by  night: 

Rise  then,  ye  skill’d  in  measures;  let  him  bear 
Your  fame  to  men  that  breathe  a  distant  air; 


135 


260 


136 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  VIII. 


And  faithful  say,  to  you  the  powers  belong 
To  race,  to  sail,  to  dance,  to  chant  the  song. 

But,  herald,  to  the  palace  swift  repair. 

And  the  soft  lyre  to  grace  our  pastimes  bear.” 

Swift  at  the  word,  obedient  to  the  king, 

The  herald  flies  the  tuneful  lyre  to  bring. 

Up  rose  nine  seniors,  chosen  to  survey 
The  future  games,  the  judges  of  the  day. 

With  instant  care  they  mark  a  spacious  round. 

And  level  for  the  dance  th’  allotted  ground; 

The  herald  bears  the  lyre:  intent  to  play. 

The  bard  advancing  meditates  the  lay. 

Skill’d  in  the  dance,  tall  youths,  a  blooming  band. 
Graceful  before  the  heavenly  minstrels  stand: 
Light-bounding  from  the  earth,  at  once  they  rise. 
Their  feet  half- viewless  quiver  in  the  skies: 

Ulysses  gazed,  astonish’d  to  survey 

The  glancing  splendours  as  their  sandals  play. 

Meantime,  the  bard,  alternate  to  the  strings, 

The  loves  of  Mars  and  Cytherea  sings; 

How  the  stern  god,  enamour’d  with  her  charms. 
Clasped  the  gay,  panting  goddess  in  his  arms. 

By  bribes  seduced ;  and  how  the  sun,  whose  eye 
Views  the  broad  heavens,  disclosed  the  lawless  joy. 
Stung  to  the  soul,  indignant  through  the  skies 
To  his  black  forge  vindictive  Vulcan  flies: 

Arrived,  his  sinewy  arms  incessant  place 
Th’  eternal  anvil  on  the  massy  base. 

A  wondrous  net  he  labours,  to  betray 
The  wanton  lovers,  as  entwined  they  lay. 
Indissolubly  strong !  Then  instant  bears 
To  his  immortal  dome  the  finish’d  snares.  • 

Above,  below,  around,  with  art  dispread. 

The  sure  enclosure  folds  the  genial  bed; 

Whose  texture  ev’n  the  search  of  gods  deceives. 
Thin  £fs  the  filmy  threads  the  spider  weaves. 

Then,  as  withdrawing  from  the  starry  bowers. 

He  feigns  a  journey  to  the  Lemnian  shores, 


290 


300 


310 


320 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  VIII. 


137 


His  favourite  isle;  observant  Mars  descries 
His  wish’d  recess,  and  to  the  goddess  flies; 

He  glows,  he  burns,  the  fair-hair’d  queen  of  love 
Descends,  smooth  gliding  from  the  courts  of  Jove,  330 
Gay  blooming  in  full  charms :  her  hand  he  press’d 
With  eager  joy,  and  with  a  sigh  address’d: 

“Come,  my  beloved!  and  taste  the  soft  delights: 

Come;  to  repose  the  genial  bed  invites: 

J  hy  absent  spouse,  neglectful  of  thy  charms. 

Prefers  his  barbarous  Sintians  to  thy  arms  1” 

Then,  nothing  loath,  th’  enamoured  fair  he  led, 

And  sunk  transported  on  the  conscious  bed. 

Down  rush’d  the  toils,  inwrapping  as  they  lay. 

The  careless  lovers  in  their  wanton  play:  340 

In  vain  they  strive;  th  entangling  snares  deny 
(Inpxtricably  firm)  the  power  to  fly. 

Warn’d  by  the  god  who  sheds  the  golden  day. 

Stern  Vulcan  homeward  treads  the  starry  way: 

Arrived,  he  sees,  he  grieves,  with  rage  he  burns: 

Full  horrible  he  roars,  his  voice  all  heaven  returns. 

“O  Jove!”  he  cries,  “oh,  all  ye  powers  above! 

See  the  lewd  dalliance  of  the  queen  of  love ! 

JVTe,  awkward  me,  she  scorns ;  and  yields  her  charms 
To  that  fair  lecher,  the  strong  god  of  arms.  350 

If  I  am  lame,  that  stain  my  natal  hour 
By  fate  imposed;  such  me  my  parent  bore. 

Why  was  I  born?  See  how  the  wanton  lies. 

Oh,  sight  tormenting  to  a  husband’s  eyes ! 

But  yet  I  trust,  this  once  ev’n  Mars  would  fly 
His  fair-one’s  arms — he  thinks  her,  once,  too  nigh. 

But  there  remain,  ye  guilty,  in  my  power. 

Till  Jove  refunds  his  shameless  daughter’s  dower. 

Too  dear  I  prized  a  fair  enchanting  face: 

Beauty  unchaste  is  beauty  in  disgrace.”  360 

Meanwhile,  the  gods  the  dome  of  Vulcan  throng; 

Apollo  comes,  and  Neptune  comes  along; 

With  these  gay  Hermes  trod  the  starry  plain; 

But  modesty  withheld  the  goddess  train. 


138 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  VIII. 


All  heaven  beholds,  imprison’d  as  they  lie, 

And  unextinguish’d  laughter  shakes  the  sky. 

Then  mutual,  thus  they  spoke:  “Behold,  on  wrong 
Swift  vengeance  waits;  and  art  subdues  the  strong. 
Dwells  there  a  god  on  all  th’  Olympian  brow 
More  swift  than  Mars,  and  more  than  Vulcan  slow . 
Yet  Vulcan  conquers,  and  the  god  of  arms 
Must  pay  the  penalty  for  lawless  charms. 

Thus  serious  they:  but  he  who  gUds  the  skies, 

The  gay  Apollo,  thus  to  Hermes  cries: 

“Wouldst  thou  enchain’d  like  Mars,  O  Hermes,  lie. 
And  bear  the  shame  like  Mars,  to  share  the  joyf’ 
“Oh,  envied  shame!”  the  smiling  youth  rejoin’d; 
“Add  thrice  the  chains,  and  thrice  more  firmly  bind; 
Gaze  all  ye  gods,  and  every  goddess  gaze. 

Yet  eager  would  I  bless  the  sweet  disgrace.” 

Loud  laugh  the  rest,  even  Neptune  laughs  aloud, 
Yet  sues  importunate  to  loose  the  god: 

“And  free,”  he  cries,  “O  Vulcan  1  free  from  shame 
Thy  captives;  I  insure  the  penal  claim.” 

“Will  Neptune,”  Vulcan  then,  “the  faithless  trust. 
He  suffers  who  gives  surety  for  th’  unjust: 

But  say,  if  that  lewd  scandal  of  the  sky, 

To  liberty  restored,  perfidious  fiy:  ^ 

Say,  wilt  thou  bear  the  mulct?” — He  instant  cries, 
“The  mulct  I  bear,  if  Mars  perfidious  flies.” 

To  whom,  appeased:  “No  more  I  urge  delay; 
When  Neptune  sues,  my  part  is  to  obey.” 

Then  to  the  snares  his  force  the  god  applies ; 
They  burst;  and  Mars  to  Thrace  indignant  flies. 

To  the  soft  Cyprian  shores  the  goddess  moves. 

To  visit  Paphos  and  her  blooming  groves. 

Where  to  the  power  an  hundred  altars  rise, 

And  breathing  odours  scent  the  balmy  skies; 
Conceal’d  she  bathes  in  consecrated  bowers. 

The  Graces  unguents  shed,  ambrosial  showers, 
iJnguents  that  charm  the  gods!  she  last  assumes 
Her  wondrous  robes;  and  the  full  goddess  blooms. 


370 


380 


390 


400 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  VIII. 


139 


Thus  sung  the  bard;  Ulysses  hears  with  joy, 

And  loud  applauses  rend  the  vaulted  sky. 

Then  to  the  sports  his  sons  the  king  commands, 

Each  blooming  youth  before  the  monarch  stands. 

In  dance  unmatch’d !  A  wondrous  ball  is  brought 
(The  work  of  Polypus,  divinely  wrought); 

This  youth  with  strength  enormous  bids  it  fly. 

And  bending  backward  whirls  it  to  the  sky;  410 

His  brother,  springing  with  an  active  bound. 

At  distance  intercepts  it  from  the  ground. 

The  ball  dismiss’d,  in  dance  they  skim  the  strand. 

Turn  and  return,  and  scarce  imprint  the  sand: 

Th’  assembly  gazes  with  astonish’d  eyes. 

And  sends  in  shouts  applauses  to  the  skies. 

Then  thus  Ulysses:  “Happy  king,  whose  name 
The  brightest  shines  in  all  the  rolls  of  fame ! 

In  subjects  happy !  with  surprise  I  gaze ; 

Thy  praise  was  just:  their  skill  transcends  thy  praise.”  420 
Pleased  with  his  people’s  fame,  the  monarch  hears. 

And  thus  benevolent  accosts  the  peers : 

“  Since  wisdom’s  sacred  guidance  he  pursues. 

Give  to  the  stranger-guest  a  stranger’s  dues: 

Twelve  princes  in  our  realm  dominion  share. 

O’er  whom  supreme,  imperial  power  I  bear: 

Bring  gold,  a  pledge  of  love:  a  talent  bring,  . 

A  vest,  a  robe,  and  imitate  your  king. 

Be  swift  to  give ;  that  he  this  night  may  share 
The  social  feast  of  joy,  with  joy  sincere.  430 

And  thou,  Euryalus,  redeem  thy  wrong ; 

A  generous  heart  repairs  a  slanderous  tongue.” 

Th’  assenting  peers,  obedient  to  the  king. 

In  haste  their  heralds  send  the  gifts  to  bring. 

Then  thus  Euryalus:  “O  prince,  whose  sway 
Rules  this  bless’d  realm,  repentant  I  obey ! 

Be  his  the  sword,  whose  blade  of  brass  displays 
A  ruddy  gleam;  whose  hilt  a  silver  blaze; 

Whose  ivory  sheath,  inwrought  with  curious  pride, 

Adds  graceful  terror  to  the  wearer’s  side.” 


440 


140 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  VIII. 


He  said;  and  to  his  hand  the  sword  consign’d: 

“And  if”  he  cried,  “my  words  affect  thy  mind, 

Far  from  thy  mind  those  words,  ye  whirlwinds,  bear, 

And  scatter  them,  ye  storms,  in  empty  air ! 

Crown,  oh,  ye  heavens !  with  joy  his  peaceful  hours, 

And  grant  him  to  his  spouse  and  native  shores !” 

“And  bless’d  be  thou,  my  friend!”  Ulysses  cries- 
“Crown  him  with  every  joy,  ye  favouring  skies! 

To  thy  calm  hours  continued  peace  afford. 

And  never,  never  may’st  thou  want  this  sword!”  450 
He  said ;  and  o’er  his  shoulder  flung  the  blade. 

Now  o’er  the  earth  ascends  the  evening  shade: 

The  precious  gifts  th’  illustrious  heralds  bear, 

And  to  the  court  th’  embodied  peers  repair. 

Before  the  queen  Alcinoiis’  sons  unfold 

The  vests,  the  robes,  and  heaps  of  shining  gold ; 

Then  to  the  radiant  thrones  they  move  in  state: 

Aloft,  the  king  in  pomp  imperial  sate. 

Then  to  the  queen:  “Oh,  partner  of  our  reign! 

Oh,  sole  beloved !  command  thy  menial  train  460 

A  polish’d  chest  and  stately  robes  to  bear. 

And  healing  waters  for  the  bath  prepare ; 

That,  bathed,  our  guest  may  bid  his  sorrows  cease. 

Hear  the  sweet  song,  and  taste  the  feast  in  peace. 

A  bowl  that  flames  with  gold,  of  wondrous  frame, 

Ourself  we  give,  memorial  of  our  name ; 

To  raise  in  offerings  to  almighty  Jove, 

And  every  god  that  treads  the  courts  above.” 

Instant  the  queen,  observant  of  the  king. 

Commands  her  train  a  spacious  vase  to  bring,  470 

The  spacious  vase  with  ample  streams  suffice. 

Heap  high  the  wood,  and  bid  the  flames  arise. 

The  flames  climb  round  it  with  a  fierce  embrace. 

The  fuming  waters  bubble  o’er  the  blaze. 

Herself  the  chest  prepares:  in  order  roll’d 

The  robes,  the  vests  are  ranged,  and  heaps  of  gold : 

And  adding  a  rich  dress  inwrought  with  art, 

A  gift  expressive  of  her  bounteous  heart. 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  VIII. 


141 


Thus  spoke  to  Ithacus:  “To  guard  with  bands 

Insol vable  these  gifts,  thy  care  demands:  480 

Lest,  in  thy  slumbers  on  the  watery  main. 

The  hand  of  rapine  make  our  bounty  vain.” 

Then  bending  with  full  force,  around  he  roll’d 
A  labyrinth  of  bands  in  fold  on  fold. 

Closed  with  Circman  art.  A  train  attends 
Around  the  bath;  the  bath  the  king  ascends, 

(Untasted  joy,  since  that  disastrous  hour. 

He  sail’d  ill-fated  from  Calypso’s  bower;) 

Where,  happy  as  the  gods  that  range  the  sky, 

He  feasted  every  sense,  with  every  joy.  490 

He  bathes ;  the  damsels,  with  officious  toil, 

Shed  sweets,  shed  unguents,  in  a  shower  of  oil: 

Then  o’er  his  limbs  a  gorgeous  robe  he  spreads. 

And  to  the  feast  magnificently  treads. 

Full  where  the  dome  its  shining  valves  expands, 

Nausicaae  blooming  as  a  goddess  stands; 

With  wondering  eyes  the  hero  she  survey’d. 

And  graceful  thus  began  the  royal  maid : 

“Hail,  godlike  stranger!  and  when  Heaven  restores 
To  thy  fond  wish  thy  long-expected  shores,  500 

This  ever  grateful  in  remembrance  bear. 

To  me  thou  owest,  to  me,  the  vital  air.” 

“Oh,  royal  maid!”  Ulysses  straight  returns, 

“Whose  worth  the  splendours  of  thy  race  adorns. 

So  may  dread  Jove  (whose  arm  in  vengeance  forms 
The  writhen  bolt,  and  blackens  heaven  with  storms,) 
Restore  me  safe,  through  weary  wanderings  toss’d. 

To  my  dear  country’s  ever-pleasing  coast. 

As  while  the  spirit  in  this  bosom  glows. 

To  thee,  my  goddess,  I  address  my  vows;  510 

My  life,  thy  gift  I  boast !” — He  said,  and  sate 
Fast  by  Alcinous  on  a  throne  of  state. 

Now  each  partakes  the  feast,  the  wine  prepares. 
Portions  the  food,  and  each  his  portion  shares. 


142 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  VIII. 


The  bard  a  herald  guides;  the  gazing  throng 
Pay  low  obeisance  as  he  moves  along: 

Beneath  a  sculptured  arch  he  sits  enthroned, 

The  peers  encircling  form  an  awful  round. 

Then,  from  the  chine,  Ulysses  carves  with  art 
Delicious  food,  an  honorary  part:  520 

“This  let  the  master  of  the  lyre  receive, 

A  pledge  of  love !  ’tis  all  a  wretch  can  give. 

Lives  there  a  man  beneath  the  spacious  skies. 

Who  sacred  honours  to  the  bard  denies? 

The  Muse  the  bard  inspires,  exalts  his  mind: 

The  Muse  indulgent  loves  th’  harmonious  kind.” 

The  herald  to  his  hand  the  charge  conveys, 

Not  fond  of  flattery,  nor  unpleased  with  praise. 

When  now  the  rage  of  hunger  was  allay’d. 

Thus  to  the  lyrist  wise  Ulysses  said:  530 

“Oh,  more  than  man!  thy  soul  the  Muse  inspires. 

Or  Phoebus  animates  with  all  his  fires  I 
For  who,  by  Phoebus  uninform’d,  could  know 
The  wo  of  Greece,  and  sing  so  well  the  wo? 

Just  to  the  tale,  as  present  at  the  fray. 

Or  taught  the  labours  of  the  dreadful  day: 

The  song  recalls  past  horrors  to  my  eyes. 

And  bids  proud  Ilion  from  her  ashes  rise. 

Once  more  harmonious  strike  the  sounding  string, 

Th’  Epoean  fabric,  framed  by  Pallas,  sing:  540 

How  stern  Ulysses,  furious  to  destroy. 

With  latent  heroes  sack’d  imperial  Troy. 

If  faithful  thou  record  the  tale  of  fame. 

The  god  himself  inspires  thy  breast  with  flame ; 

And  mine  sball  be  the  task  henceforth  to  raise 
In  every  land  thy  monument  of  prase.” 

Full  of  the  god,  he  raised  his  lofty  strain. 

How  the  Greeks  rush’d  tumultuous  to  the  main ; 

How  blazing  tents  illumined  half  the  skies, 

While  from  the  shores  the  winged  navy  flies: 


550 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  VIII. 


143 


How,  ev’n  in  Ilion’s  walls,  in  deathful  bands. 

Came  the  stern  Greeks  by  Troy’s  assisting  hands: 

All  Troy  up-heaved  the  steed;  of  differing  mind. 

Various  the  Trojans  counsel’d;  part  consign’d 
The  monster  to  the  sword,  part  sentence  gave 
To  plunge  it  headlong  in  the  whelming  wave; 

The  unwise  award  to  lodge  it  in  the  towers. 

An  offering  sacred  to  th’  immortal  powers ; 

The  unwise  prevail,  they  lodge  it  in  the  walls. 

And  by  the  gods’  decree  proud  Ilion  falls:  560 

Destruction  enters  in  the  treacherous  wood, 

And  vengeful  slaughter,  fierce  for  human  blood. 

He  sung  the  Greeks  stern-issuing  from  the  steed. 

How  Ilion  burns,  how  all  her  fathers  bleed; 

How  to  thy  dome,  Deiphobus!  ascends 
The  Spartan  king;  how  Ithacus  attends, 

(Horrid  as  Mars,)  and  how  with  dire  alarms 
He  fights,  subdues;  for  Pallas  strings  his  arms. 

Thus  while  he  sung,  Ulysses’  griefs  renew. 

Tears  bathe  his  cheeks,  and  tears  the  ground  bedew.  570 
As  some  fond  matron  views  in  mortal  fight 
Her  husband  falling  in  his  country’s  right: 

Frantic  through  clashing  swords  she  runs,  she  flies, 

As  ghastly  pale  he  groans,  and  faints,  and  dies; 

Close  to  his  breast  she  grovels  on  the  ground, 

And  bathes  with  floods  of  tears  the  gaping  wound: 

She  cries,  she  shrieks;  the  fierce  insulting  foe 
Relentless  mocks  her  violence  of  wo: 

To  chains  condemn’d,  as  wildly  she  deplores; 

A  widow,  and  a  slave  on  foreign  shores:  580 

So  from  the  sluices  of  Ulysses’  eyes 

Fast  fell  the  tears,  and  sighs  succeeded  sighs; 

Conceal’d  he  grieved:  the  king  observed  alone 
The  silent  tear,  and  heard  the  secret  groan ; 

Then  to  the  bard  aloud:  “Oh,  cease  to  sing. 

Dumb  be  thy  voice,  and  mute  the  tuneful  string; 


144 


TPIE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  VIII. 


To  every  note  his  tears  responsive  flow, 

And  his  great  heart  heaves  with  tumultuous  wo ; 

Thy  lay  too  deeply  moves:  then  cease  the  lay, 

And  o’er  the  banquet  every  heart  be  gay:  590 

This  social  right  demands;  for  him  the  sails, 

Floating  in  air,  invite  th’  impelling  gales : 

His  are  the  gifts  of  love ;  the  wise  and  good 
Receive  the  stranger  as  a  brother’s  blood. — 

But,  friend,  discover  faithful  what  I  crave; 

Artful  concealment  ill  becomes  the  brave : 

Say  what  thy  birth,  and  what  the  name  you  bore. 
Imposed  by  parents  in  the  natal  hour? 

(For  from  the  natal  hour  distinctive  names. 

One  common  right  the  great  and  lowly  claims ;)  600 

Say,  from  what  city,  from  what  regions  toss’d. 

And  what  inhabitants  those  regions  boast? 

So  shalt  thou  instant  reach  the  realm  assign’d. 

In  wondrous  ships,  self-moved,  instinct  with  mind: 

No  helm  secures  their  course,  no  pilot  guides: 

Like  man  intelligent,  they  plough  the  tides. 

Conscious  of  every  coast,  and  every  bay. 

That  lies  beneath  the  sun’s  all-seeing  ray: 

Though  clouds  and  darkness  veil  th’  encumber’d  sky, 

F earless  through  darkness  and  through  clouds  they  fly ;  610 
Though  tempests  rage,  though  rolls  the  swelling  main, 
The  seas  may  roll,  the  tempests  rage  in  vain: 

Ev’n  the  stern  god  that  o’er  the  waves  presides. 

Safe  as  they  pass,  and  safe  repass  the  tides. 

With  fury  burns ;  while  careless  they  convey 
Promiscuous  every  guest  to  every  bay. 

These  ears  have  heard  my  royal  sire  disclose 
A  dreadful  story,  big  with  future  woes. 

How  Neptune  raged,  and  how,  by  his  command, 

Firm  rooted  in  a  surge  a  ship  should  stand  620 

A  monument  of  wrath;  how  mound  on  mound 
Should  bury  these  proud  towers  beneath  the  ground. 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  VIII 


145 


But  this  the  gods  may  frustrate  or  fulfil, 


As  suits  the  purpose  of  th’  Eternal  Will. 

But  say  through  what  waste  regions  hast  thou  stray’d, 
What  customs  noted,  and  what  coasts  survey’d; 

Possess’d  by  wild  barbarians  fierce  in  arms. 

Or  men  whose  bosom  tender  pity  warms? 

Say  why  the  fate  of  Troy  awaked  thy  cares. 

Why  heaved  thy  bosom,  and  why  flow’d  thy  tears?  630 
Just  are  the  ways  of  Heaven;  from  Heaven  proceed 
The  woes  of  man;  Heaven  doom’d  the  Greeks  to  bleed, 
A  theme  of  future  song!  Say  then  if  slain 
Some  dear  loved  brother  press’d  the  Phrygian  plain? 

Or  bled  some  friend,  who  bore  a  brother’s  part. 

And  claim’d  by  merit,  not  by  blood,  the  heart?” 


7  K 


'1 


BOOK  IX. 


The  Adventures  of  the  Cicons,  Lotophagi,  and  Cyclops. 

Argument. — Ulysses  begins  the  relation  of  his  adventures ;  how,  after  the 
destruction  of  Troy,  he  with  his  companions  made  an  incursion  on  the 
Cicons,  by  whom  they  were  repulsed;  and,  meeting  with  a  storm,  were 
driven  to  the  coast  of  Lotophagi.  From  thence  they  sailed  to  the  land 
of  the  Cyclops,  whose  manners  and  situation  are  particularly  characterized. 
The  giant  Polyphemus  and  his  cave  described ;  the  usage  Ulysses  and  his 
companions  met  with  there ;  and  lastly,  the  method  and  artifice  by  which 
he  escaped. 

Then  thus  Ulysses:  “Thou  whom  first  in  sway, 

As  first  in  virtue,  these  thy  realms  obey: 

How  sweet  the  products  of  a  peaceful  reign ! 

The  heaven-taught  poet,  and  enchanting  strain, 

The  well-fiird  palace,  the  perpetual  feast, 

A  land  rejoicing,  and  a  people  bless’d ! 

How  goodly  seems  it  ever  to  employ  j 

Man’s  social  days  in  union  and  in  joy ! 

The  plenteous  board  high-heap’d  with  cates  divine. 

And  o’er  the  foaming  bowl  the  laughing  wine.  10 

Amid  these  joys,  why  seeks  thy  mind  to  know  j 

Th’  unhappy  series  of  a  wanderer’s  wo?  ‘ 

Remembrance  sad,  whose  image  to  review,  i 

Alas !  must  open  all  my  wounds  anew !  \ 

And,  oh!  what  first,  what  last  shall  I  relate,  ^ 

Of  woes  unnumber’d,  sent  by  Heaven  and  Fate?  j 

Know  first  the  man  (though  now  a  wretch  distress’d)  | 
Who  hopes  thee,  monarch,  for  his  future  guest.  I 

Behold  Ulysses  I  no  ignoble  name,  | 

Earth  sounds  my  wisdom,  and  high  heaven  my  fame.  20  f 
My  native  soil  is  Ithaca  the  fair, 

Where  high  Neritus  waves  his  woods  in  air;  | 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  IX. 


147 


Dulichlum,  Sam4,  and  Zacynthus,  crown’d 
With  shady  mountains,  spread  their  isles  around: 

(These  to  the  north  and  night’s  dark  regions  run, 

Those  to  Aurora  and  the  rising  sun.) 

Low  lies  our  isle,  yet  bless’d  in  fruitful  stores; 

Strong  are  her  sons,  though  rocky  are  her  shores; 

And  none,  ah !  none  so  lovely  to  my  sight. 

Of  all  the  lands  that  heaven  o’erspreads  with  light !  30 

In  vain  Calypso  long  constrain’d  my  stay. 

With  sweet,  reluctant,  amorous  delay; 

With  all  her  charms  as  vainly  Circ^  strove. 

And  added  magic  to  secure  my  love. 

In  pomps  or  joys,  the  palace  or  the  grot, 

My  country’s  image  never  was  forgot, 

My  absent  parents  rose  before  my  sight. 

And  distant  lay  contentment  and  delight. 

“Hear  then  the  woes  which  mighty  Jove  ordain’d 
To  wait  my  passage  from  the  Trojan  land.  40 

The  winds  from  Ilion  to  the  Cicons’  shore. 

Beneath  cold  Ismarus,  our  vessel  bore. 

We  boldly  landed  on  the  hostile  place. 

And  sack’d  the  city,  and  destroy’d  the  race; 

Their  wives  made  captive,  their  possessions  shared, 

And  every  soldier  found  a  like  reward. 

I  then  advised  to  fly;  not  so  the  rest. 

Who  stay’d  to  revel,  and  prolong  the  feast: 

The  fatted  sheep  and  sable  bulls  they  slay. 

And  bowls  flow  round,  and  riot  wastes  the  day.  50 

Meantime,  the  Cicons  to  their  holds  retired. 

Call  on  the  Cicons,  with  new  fury  fired : 

With  early  morn  the  gather’d  country  swarms. 

And  all  the  continent  is  bright  with  arms; 

Thick  as  the  budding  leaves  or  rising  flowers 
'  O’erspread  the  land,  when  spring  descends  in  showers : 

All  expert  soldiers,  skill’d  on  foot  to  dare, 

I  Or  from  the  bounding  courser  urge  the  war. 

Now  fortune  changes  (so  the  Fates  ordain): 

'  Our  hour  was  come  to  taste  our  share  of  pain.  60 


148 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  IX. 


Close  at  the  ships  the  bloody  fight  began, 

Wounded  they  wound,  and  man  expires  on  man. 

Long  as  the  morning  sun  increasing  bright 
O’er  heaven’s  pure  azure  spread  the  growing  light. 
Promiscuous  death  the  form  of  war  confounds, 

Each  adverse  battle  gored  with  equal  wounds ; 

But  when  his  evening- wheels  o’erhung  the  main, 

Then  conquest  crown’d  the  fierce  Ciconian  train. 

Six  brave  companions  from  each  ship  we  lost. 

The  rest  escaped  in  haste,  and  quit  the  coast.  70 

With  sails  outspread  we  fly  th’  unequal  strife. 

Sad  for  their  loss,  but  joyful  of  our  life: 

Yet  as  we  fled,  our  fellows’  rites  we  paid. 

And  thrice  we  call’d  on  each  unhappy  shade. 

“Meanwhile,  the  god  whose  hand  the  thunder  forms, 
Drives  clouds  on  clouds,  and  blackens  heaven  with  storms: 
Wide  o’er  the  waste  the  rage  of  Boreas  sweeps. 

And  night  rush’d  headlong  on  the  shaded  deeps. 

Now  here,  now  there,  the  giddy  ships  are  borne. 

And  all  the  rattling  shrouds  in  fragments  torn.  80 

We  furl’d  the  sail,  we  plied  the  labouring  oar, 

Took  down  our  masts,  and  row’d  our  ships  to  shore. 

Two  tedious  days  and  two  long  nights  we  lay, 
O’erwatch’d  and  batter’d  in  the  naked  bay; 

But  the  third  morning  when  Aurora  brings, 

W e  rear  the  masts,  we  spread  the  canvas  wings ; 
Refresh’d,  and  careless  on  the  deck  reclined, 

We  sit,  and  trust  the  pilot  and  the  wind. 

Then  to  my  native  country  had  I  sail’d ; 

But,  the  cape  doubled,  adverse  winds  prevail’d.  90 

Strong  was  the  tide,  which,  by  the  northern  blast 
Impel’d,  our  vessels  on  Cythera  cast. 

Nine  days  our  fleet  th’  uncertain  tempest  bore 
Far  in  wide  ocean,  and  from  sight  of  shore; 

The  tenth  we  touch’d,  by  various  errors  toss’d. 

The  land  of  Lotus  and  the  flowery  coast. 

We  climb’d  the  beach,  and  springs  of  water  found. 

Then  spread  our  hasty  banquet  on  the  ground. 


THE  ODYSSBY,  BOOK  IX. 


149 


Three  men  were  sent,  deputed  from  the  crew, 

(A  herald  one,)  the  dubious  coast  to  view,  100 

And  learn  what  habitants  possess’d  the  place. 

They  went,  and  found  a  hospitable  race: 

Not  prone  to  ill,  nor  strange  to  foreign  guest. 

They  eat,  they  drink,  and  nature  gives  the  feast; 

The  trees  around  them  all  their  food  produce; 

Lotos,  the  name ;  divine,  nectareous  juice ! 

(Thence  call’d  Lotophagi;)  'which  whoso  tastes. 

Insatiate  riots  in  the  sweet  repasts. 

Nor  other  home,  nor  other  care  intends. 

But  quits  his  house,  his  country,  and  his  friends.  110 
The  three  we  sent,  from  off  th’  enchanting  ground 
We  dragg’d  reluctant,  and  by  force  we  bound. 

The  rest  in  haste  forsook  the  pleasing  shore. 

Or,  the  charm  tasted,  had  return’d  no  more. 

Now  placed  in  order  on  their  banks,  they  sweep 
The  sea’s  smooth  face,  and  cleave  the  hoary  deep; 

With  heavy  hearts  we  labour  through  the  tide. 

To  coasts  unknown  and  oceans  yet  untried. 

“The  land  of  Cyclops  first,  a  savage  kind. 

Nor  tamed  by  manners,  nor  by  laws  confined;  120 

Untaught  to  plant,  to  turn  the  glebe  and  sow; 

They  all  their  products  to  free  nature  owe. 

The  soil  untill’d  a  ready  harvest  yields. 

With  wheat  and  barley  wave  the  golden  fields. 
Spontaneous  wines  from  weighty  clusters  pour. 

And  Jove  descends  in  each  prolific  shower. 

By  these  no  statutes  and  no  rights  are  known. 

No  council  held,  no  monarch  fills  the  throne; 

But  high  on  hills,  or  airy  cliffs  they  dwell. 

Or  deep  in  caves  whose  entrance  leads  to  hell.  130 

Each  rules  his  race,  his  neighbour  not  his  care. 

Heedless  of  others,  to  his  own  severe. 

“Opposed  to  the  Cyclopean  coast,  there  lay 
An  isle,  whose  hills  their  subject  fields  survey ; 

Its  name  Lachcea,  crown’d  with  many  a  grove. 

Where  savage  goats  through  pathless  thickets  rove; 


150  the  odyssey,  book  IX. 

No  needy  mortals  here,  with  hunger  bold, 

Or  wretched  hunters  through  the  wintry  cold, 

Pursue  their  flight;  but  leave  them  safe  to  bound 
From  hill  to  hill,  o’er  all  the  desert  ground.  140 

Nor  knows  the  soil  to  feed  the  fleecy  care. 

Or  feels  the  labours  of  the  crooked  share; 

But,  uninhabited,  untilfd,  unsown 

It  lies,  and  breeds  the  bleating  goat  alone. 

For  there  no  vessel  with  vermilion  prore. 

Or  bark  of  traffic,  glides  from  shore  to  shore ; 

The  rugged  race  of  savages,  unskilfd 
The  seas  to  traverse,  or  the  ships  to  build. 

Gaze  on  the  coast,  nor  cultivate  the  soil ; 

Unlearn’d  in  all  th’  industrious  arts  of  toil.  150 

Yet  here  all  products  and  all  plants  abound. 

Sprung  from  the  fruitful  genius  of  the  ground; 

Fields  waving  high  with  heavy  crops  are  seen. 

And  vines  that  flourish  in  eternal  green. 

Refreshing  meads  along  the  murmuring  main. 

And  fountains  streaming  down  the  fruitful  plain. 

A  port  there  is,  enclosed  on  either  side. 

Where  ships  may  rest,  unanchor’d  and  untied ; 

Till  the  glad  mariners  incline  to  sail. 

And  the  sea  whitens  with  the  rising  gale.  1 60 

High  at  its  head,  from  out  the  cavern’d  rock, 

In  living  rills  a  gushing  fountain  broke : 

Around  it,  and  above,  for  ever  green. 

The  bushing  alders  form’d  a  shady  scene. 

Hither  some  favouring  god,  beyond  our  thought. 

Through  all-surrounding  shade  our  navy  brought; 

For  gloomy  night  descended  on  the  main. 

Nor  glimmer’d  Phoebe  in  th’  ethereal  plain: 

But  all  unseen  the  clouded  island  lay. 

And  all  unseen  the  surge  and  rolling  sea,  170 

Till  safe  we  anchor’d  in  the  shelter’d  bay: 

Our  sails  we  gather’d,  cast  our  cables  o’er. 

And  slept  secure  along  the  sandy  shore. 

Soon  as  again  the  rosy  morning  shone. 

Reveal’d  the  landscape  and  the  scene  unknown, 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  IX. 


151 


With  wonder  seized,  we  view  the  pleasing  ground, 

And  walk  delighted,  and  expatiate  round. 

Roused  by  the  woodland  nymphs  at  early  dawn. 

The  mountain-goats  came  bounding  o’er  the  lawn: 

In  haste  our  fellows  to  the  ships  repair,  180 

For  arms  and  weapons  of  the  sylvan  war; 

Straight  in  three  squadrons  all  our  crew  we  part, 

And  bend  the  bow,  or  wing  the  missile  dart; 

The  bounteous  gods  afford  a  copious  prey, 

And  nine  fat  goats  each  vessel  bears  away: 

The  royal  bark  had  ten.  Our  ships  complete 
We  thus  supplied  (for  twelve  were  all  the  fleet). 

Here,  till  the  setting  sun  roll’d  down  the  light. 

We  sat  indulging  in  the  genial  rite: 

Nor  wines  were  wanting;  those  from  ample  jars  190 
We  drain’d,  the  prize  of  our  Ciconian  wars. 

The  land  of  Cyclops  lay  in  prospect  near; 

The  voice  of  goats  and  bleating  flocks  we  hear. 

And  from  their  mountains  rising  smokes  appear. 

Now  sunk  the  sun,  and  darkness  cover’d  o’er 
The  face  of  things:  along  the  sea-beat  shore 
Satiate  we  slept:  but  when  the  sacred  dawn 
Arising  glitter’d  o’er  the  dewy  lawn, 

I  call’d  my  fellows,  and  these  words  address’d : 

“‘My  dear  associates,  here  indulge  your  rest,  200 
While,  with  my  single  ship,  adventurous,  I 
Go  forth  the  manners  of  yon  men  to  try ; 

Whether  a  race  unjust,  of  barbarous  might. 

Rude,  and  unconscious  of  a  stranger’s  right; 

Or  such  who  harbour  pity  in  their  breast. 

Revere  the  gods,  and  succour  the  distress’d.’ 

This  said,  I  climb’d  my  vessel’s  lofty  side ; 

My  train  obey’d  me,  and  the  ship  untied. 

In  order  seated  on  their  banks,  they  sweep 

Neptune’s  smooth  face,  and  cleave  the  yielding  deep.  210 

When  to  the  nearest  verge  of  land  we  drew. 

Fast  by  the  sea  a  lonely  cave  we  view. 

High,  and  with  darkening  laurels  cover’d  o  er, 

W^here  sheep  and  goats  lay  slumbering  round  the  shore. 


152  THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  IX. 

Near  this,  a  fence  of  marble  from  the  rock, 

Brown  with  o’er-arching  pine  and  spreading  oak. 

A  giant  shepherd  here  his  flock  maintains 
Far  from  the  rest,  and  solitary  reigns, 

In  shelter  thick  of  horrid  shade  reclined; 

And  gloomy  mischiefs  labour  in  his  mind.  220 

'A  form  enormous !  far  unlike  the  race 
Of  human  birth,  in  stature  or  in  face; 

As  some  lone  mountain’s  monstrous  growth  he  stood. 
Crown  d  with  rough  thickets,  and  a  nodding  wood. 

I  left  my  vessel  at  the  point  of  land, 

And  close  to  guard  it,  gave  our  crew  command: 

With  only  twelve,  the  boldest  and  the  best, 

I  seek  th’  adventure,  and  forsake  the  rest: 

Then  took  a  goatskin  fill’d  with  precious  wine, 

The  gift  of  Maron  of  Evanthes’  line,  230 

(The  priest  of  Phoebus  at  the  Ismarian  shrine). 

In  sacred  shade  his  honour’d  mansion  stood. 

Amidst  Apollo’s  consecrated  wood  ; 

Him,  and  his  house.  Heaven  moved  my  mind  to  save, 

And  costly  presents  in  return  he  gave; 

Seven  golden  talents  to  perfection  wrought, 

A  silver  bowl  that  held  a  copious  draught. 

And  twelve  large  vessels  of  unmingled  wine. 

Mellifluous,  undecaying,  and  divine ! 

Which  now,  some  ages  from  his  race  conceal’d,  240 
The  hoary  sire  in  gratitude  reveal’d. 

Such  was  the  wine;  to  quench  whose  fervent  steam 
Scarce  twenty  measures  from  the  living  stream 
To  cool  one  cup  sufficed:  the  goblet  crown’d 
Breathed  aromatic  fragrancies  around. 

Of  this  an  ample  vase  we  heaved  aboard. 

And  brought  another  with  provision  stored. 

M!y  soul  foreboded  I  should  find  the  bower 
Of  some  fell  monster,  fierce  with  barbarous  power. 

Some  rustic  wretch,  who  lived  in  Heaven’s  despite,  250 
Contemning  laws,  and  trampling  on  the  right. 

The  cave  we  found,  but  vacant  all  within, 

(His  flock  the  giant  tended  on  the  green:) 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  IX. 


153 


But  round  the  grot  we  gaze ;  and  all  we  view, 

In  order  ranged,  our  admiration  drew: 

The  bending  shelves  with  loads  of  cheeses  press’d. 

The  folded  flocks,  each  separate  from  the  rest; 

(The  larger  here,  and  there  the  lesser  lambs. 

The  new-fall’n  young  here  bleating  for  their  dams; 

The  kid  distinguish’d  from  the  lambkin  lies:)  260 

The  cavern  echoes  with  responsive  cries. 

Capacious  chargers  all  around  were  laid. 

Full  pails,  and  vessels  of  the  milking  trade. 

With  fresh  provisions  hence  our  fleet  to  store 
My  friends  advised  me,  and  to  quit  the  shore; 

Or  drive  a  flock  of  sheep  and  goats  away, 

Consult  our  safety,  and  put  off  to  sea. 

Their  wholesome  counsel  rashly  I  declined. 

Curious  to  view  the  man  of  monstrous  kind. 

And  try  what  social  rites  a  savage  lends:  270 

Dire  rites,  alas !  and  fatal  to  my  friends ! 

Then  first  a  fire  we  kindle,  and  prepare 
For  his  return  with  sacrifice  and  prayer. 

The  loaded  shelves  afford  us  full  repast; 

We  sit  expecting.  Lo!  he  comes  at  last. 

Near  half  a  forest  on  his  back  he  bore. 

And  cast  the  ponderous  burden  at  the  door. 

It  thunder’d  as  it  fell.  We  trembled  then. 

And  sought  the  deep  recesses  of  the  den. 

Now  driven  before  him  through  the  arching  rock,  280 
Came  tumbling,  heaps  on  heaps,  th’  unnumber’d  flock ; 
Big-udder’d  ewes,  and  goats  of  female  kind 
(The  males  were  penn’d  in  outward  courts  behind); 

Then  heaved  on  high,  a  rock’s  enormous  weight 
To  the  cave’s  mouth  he  roll’d,  and  closed  the  gate: 
(Scarce  twenty  four- wheel’d  cars,  compact  and  strong, 
The  massy  load  could  bear,  or  roll  along.) 

He  next  betakes  him  to  his  evening  cares. 

And,  sitting  down,  to  milk  his  flocks  prepares; 

Of  half  their  udders  eases  first  the  dams,  290 

Then  to  the  mothers’  teats  submits  the  lambs. 

7* 


154 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  IX. 


Half  the  white  stream  to  hardening  cheese  he  press’d,  .  « 
And  high  in  wicker  baskets  heap’d :  the  rest,  > ' 

Reserved  in  bowls,  supplied  his  nightly  feast.  ‘  ' 

His  labour  done,  he  fired  the  pile,  that  gave  > » 

A  sudden  blaze,  and  lighted  all  the  cave. 

We  stand  discover’d  by  the  rising  fires; 

Askance  the  giant  glares,  and  thus  inquires: 

“‘What  are  ye,  guests?  on  what  adventure,  say. 

Thus  far  ye  wander  through  the  watery  way?  300 

Pirates,  perhaps,  who  seek  through  seas  unknown 
The  lives  of  others,  and  expose  your  own?’ 

“His  voice  like  thunder  through  the  cavern  sounds: 

My  bold  companions  thrilling  fear  confounds. 

Appall’d  at  sight  of  more  than  mortal  man; 

At  length,  with  heart  recover’d,  I  began: 

“‘From  Troy’s  famed  fields,  sad  wanderers  o’er  the  main. 
Behold  the  relics  of  the  Grecian  train! 

Through  various  seas,  by  various  perils  toss’d. 

And  forced  by  storms,  unwilling,  on  your  coast;  310 
Far  from  our  destined  course  and  native  land. 

Such  was  our  fate,  and  such  high  Jove’s  command: 

Nor  what  we  are  befits  us  to  disclaim, 

Atrides’  friends  (in  arms  a  mighty  name,) 

Who  taught  proud  Troy  and  all  her  sons  to  bow, 

Victors  of  late,  but  humble  suppliants  now ! 

Low  at  thy  knee  thy  succour  we  implore ; 

Respect  us,  human,  and  relieve  us,  poor. 

At  least  some  hospitable  gift  bestow; 

’Tis  what  the  happy  to  th’  unhappy  owe :  320 

’Tis  what  the  gods  require:  those  gods  revere. 

The  poor  and  stranger  are  their  constant  care; 

To  Jove  their  cause,  and  their  revenge  belongs. 

He  wanders  with  them,  and  he  feels  their  wrongs.’ 

“‘Fools  that  ye  are!’  (the  savage  thus  replies, 

His  inward  fury  blazing  at  his  eyes,) 

‘Or  strangers,  distant  far  from  our  abodes. 

To  bid  me  reverence  or  regard  the  gods. 

Know  then,  we  Cyclops  are  a  race  above 
Those  air-bred  people,  and  their  goat-nursed  Jove; 


330 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  IX. 


155 


And  learn,  our  power  proceeds  with  thee  and  thine, 

Not  as  he  wills,  but  as  ourselves  incline. 

But  answer,  the  good  ship  that  brought  ye  o’er, 

Where  lies  she  anchor’d?  near  or  off  the  shore?’ 

“Thus  he.  His  meditated  fraud  I  find 
(Versed  in  the  turns  of  various  human-kind); 

And,  cautious,  thus:  ‘Against  a  dreadful  rock. 

Fast  by  your  shore,  the  gallant  vessel  broke. 

Scarce  with  these  few  I  ’scaped  of  all  my  train. 

Whom  angry  Neptune  whelm’d  beneath  the  main;  340 
The  scatter’d  wreck  the  winds  blew  back  again.’ 

“He  answer’d  with  his  deed:  his  bloody  hand 
Snatch’d  two,  unhappy !  of  my  martial  band : 

And  dash’d  like  dogs  against  the  stony  floor; 

The  pavement  swims  with  brains  and  mingled  gore; 

Torn  limb  from  limb,  he  spreads  his  horrid  feast. 

And  fierce  devours  it  like  a  mountain  beast: 

He  sucks  the  marrow,  and  the  blood  he  drains. 

Nor  entrails,  flesh,  nor  solid  bone  remains. 

We  see  the  death  from  which  we  cannot  move,  350 
And  humbled  groan  beneath  the  hand  of  Jove. 

His  ample  maw  with  human  carnage  fill’d, 

A  milky  deluge  next  the  giant  swill’d ; 

Then  stretch’d  in  length  o’er  half  the  cavern’d  rock. 

Lay  senseless,  and  supine,  amidst  the  flock. 

To  seize  the  time,  and  with  a  sudden  wound 
To  fix  the  slumbering  monster  to  the  ground. 

My  soul  impels  me:  and  in  act  I  stand 
To  draw  the  sword;  but  wisdom  held  my  hand; 

A  deed  so  rash  had  finish’d  all  our  fate;  360 

No  mortal  forces  from  the  lofty  gate 

Could  roll  the  rock.  In  hopeless  grief  we  lay. 

And  sigh,  expecting  the  return  of  day. 

Now  did  the  rosy-finger’d  morn  arise. 

And  shed  her  sacred  light  along  the  skies : 

He  wakes,  he  lights  the  fire,  he  milks  the  dams, 

And  to  the  mothers’  teats  submits  the  lambs. 

'  The  task  thus  finish’d  of  his  morning  hours, 

'  T  wo  more  he  snatches,  murders,  and  devours. 


156 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  IX. 


Then  pleased,  and  whistling,  drives  his  flock  before ;  370 
Removes  the  rocky  mountain  from  the  door. 

And  shuts  again:  with  equal  ease  disposed. 

As  a  light  quiver’s  lid  is  oped  and  closed. 

His  giant  voice  the  echoing  region  fills; 

His  flocks,  obedient,  spread  o’er  all  the  hills. 

“Thus  left  behind,  even  in  the  last  despair, 

I  thought,  devised,  and  Pallas  heard  my  prayer. 

Revenge,  and  doubt,  and  caution  work’d  my  breast; 

But  this  of  many  counsels  seem’d  the  best: 

The  monster’s  club  within  the  cave  I  spied,  380 

A  tree  of  stateliest  growth,  and  yet  undried. 

Green  from  the  wood ;  of  height  and  bulk  so  vast. 

The  largest  ship  might  claim  it  for  a  mast. 

This,  shorten’d  of  its  top,  I  gave  my  train 
A  fathom’s  length,  to  shape  it  and  to  plane ; 

The  narrower  end  I  sharpen’d  to  a  spire; 

Whose  point  we  harden’d  with  the  force  of  fire. 

And  hid  it  in.  the  dust  that  strew’d  the  cave. 

Then  to  my  few  companions,  bold  and  brave. 

Proposed  who  first  the  venturous  deed  should  try. 

In  the  broad  orbit  of  his  monstrous  eye  390 

To  plunge  the  brand,  and  twirl  the  pointed  wood. 

When  slumber  next  should  tame  the  man  of  blood; 

Just  as  I  wish’d,  the  lots  were  cast  on  four: 

Myself  the  fifth.  We  stand  and  wait  the  hour 
He  comes  with  evening:  All  his  fleecy  flock 
Before  him  march,  and  pour  into  the  rock: 

Not  one,  or  male  or  female,  staid  behind; 

(So  fortune  chanced,  or  so  some  god  design’d:) 

Then  heaving  high  the  stone’s  unwieldy  weight,  400 
He  roll  d  it  on  the  cave,  and  closed  the  gate. 

First  down  he  sits,  to  milk  the  woolly  dams. 

And  then  permits  their  udder  to  the  lambs.  ’ 

Next  seized  two  wretches  more,  and  headlong  cast. 

Brain  d  on  the  rock ;  his  second  dire  repast. 

I  then  approach’d  him,  reeking  with  their  gore. 

And  held  the  brimming  goblet  foaming  o’er: 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  IX. 


157 


“‘Cyclop,  since  human  flesh  has  been  thy  feast, 

Now  drain  this  goblet,  potent  to  digest; 

Know  hence  what  treasures  in  our  ship  we  lost,  410 
And  what  rich  liquors  other  climates  boast. 

We  to  thy  shore  the  precious  freight  shall  bear. 

If  home  thou  send  us,  and  vouchsafe  to  spare. 

But,  oh !  thus  furious,  thirsting  thus  for  gore. 

The  sons  of  men  shall  ne’er  approach  thy  shore, 

And  never  shalt  thou  taste  this  nectar  more.’ 

“He  heard,  he  took,  and  pouring  down  his  throat. 
Delighted,  swill’d  the  large  luxurious  draught. 

“‘More!  give  me  more,’  he  cried;  ‘the  boon  be  thine, 
Whoe’er  thou  art  that  bear’st  celestial  wine;  420 

Declare  thy  name ;  not  mortal  is  this  juice, 

Such  as  th’  unbless’d  Cyclopean  climes  produce; 

(Though  sure  our  vine  the  largest  cluster  yields. 

And  Jove’s  scorn’d  thunder  serves  to  drench  our  fields;) 
But  this  descended  from  the  bless’d  abodes, 

A  rill  of  nectar,  streaming  from  the  gods.’ 

“He  said,  and  greedy  grasped  the  heady  bowl. 

Thrice  drain’d,  and  pour’d  the  deluge  on  his  soul. 

His  sense  lay  cover’d  with  the  dozy  fume. 

While  thus  my  fraudful  speech  I  reassume:  430 

“‘Thy  promised  boon,  O  Cyclop!  now  I  claim. 

And  plead  my  title;  Noman  is  my  name. 

By  that  distinguish’d  from  my  tender  years, 

’Tis  what  my  parents  call  me,  and  my  peers.’ 

“The  giant  then:  ‘Our  promised  grace  receive. 

The  hospitable  boon  we  mean  to  give: 

When  all  thy  wretched  crew  have  felt  my  power. 

Noman  shall  be  the  last  I  will  devour.’ 

“He  said:  then,  nodding  with  the  fumes  of  wine. 
Dropp’d  his  huge  head,  and  snoring  lay  supine.  440 

His  neck  obliquely  o’er  his  shoulders  hung. 

Press’d  with  the  weight  of  sleep  that  tames  the  strong ; 
There  belched  the  mingled  streams  of  wine  and  blood. 
And  human  flesh,  his  indigested  food. 

Sudden  I  stir  the  embers,  and  inspire 
With  animating  breath  the  seeds  of  fire; 


158 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  IX. 


Each  drooping  spirit  with  bold  words  repair, 

And  urge  my  train  the  dreadful  deed  to  dare. 

The  stake  now  glow’d  beneath  the  burning  bed 
(Green  as  it  was),  and  sparkled  fiery  red;  450 

Then  forth  the  vengeful  instrument  I  bring; 

With  beating  hearts  my  fellows  form  a  ring. 

Urged  by  some  present  god,  they  swift  let  fall 
The  pointed  torment  on  his  visual  ball. 

Myself  above  them  from  a  rising  ground 

Guide  the  sharp  stake,  and  twirl  it  round  and  round. 

As  when  a  shipwright  stands  his  workmen  o’er, 

Who  ply  the  wimble  some  huge  beam  to  bore ; 

Urged  on  all  hands,  it  nimbly  spins  about. 

The  grain  deep-piercing  till  it  scoops  it  out:  460 

In  his  broad  eye  so  whirls  the  fiery  wood; 

From  the  pierced  pupil  spouts  the  boiling  blood; 

Singed  are  his  brows:  the  scorching  lids  grow  black: 
The  jelly  bubbles,  and  the  fibres  crack. 

And  as  when  armourers  temper  in  the  ford 
The  keen-edged  pole-axe,  or  the  shining  sword. 

The  red-hot  metal  hisses  in  the  lake. 

Thus  in  his  eye-ball  hiss’d  the  plunging  stake. 

He  sends  a  dreadful  groan,  the  rocks  around 
Through  all  their  inmost  winding  caves  resound.  470 
Scared,  we  receded.  Forth  with  frantic  hand. 

He  tore,  and  dashed  on  earth  the  gory  brand ; 

Then  calls  the  Cyclops,  all  that  round  him  dwell. 

With  voice  like  thunder,  and  a  direful  yell. 

From  all  their  dens,  the  one-eyed  race  repair. 

From  rifted  rocks,  and  mountains  bleak  in  air. 

All  haste  assembled,  at  his  well-known  roar. 

Inquire  the  cause,  and  crowd  the  cavern-door. 

“‘What  hurts  thee,  Polypheme?  what  strange  afli’ight 
Thus  breaks  our  slumbers,  and  disturbs  the  night?  480 
Does  any  mortal  in  th’  unguarded  hour 
Of  sleep,  oppress  thee,  or  by  fraud  or  power? 

Or  thieves  insidious  thy  fair  flocks  surprise?’ 

Thus  they.  The  Cyclop  from  his  den  replies: 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  IX. 


159 


“‘Friends,  Noman  kills  me;  Noman,  in  the  hour 
Of  sleep,  oppresses  me  with  fraudful  power.’ 

“‘If  no  man  hurt  thee,  but  the  hand  divine 
Inflict  disease,  it  fits  thee  to  resign: 

To  Jove  or  to  thy  father  Neptune  pray,’ 

The  brethren  cried,  and  instant  strode  away.  490 

“Joy  touch’d  my  secret  soul  and  conscious  heart. 
Pleased  with  th’  effect  of  conduct  and  of  art. 

Meantime,  the  Cyclop,  raging  with  his  wound. 

Spreads  his  wid^  arms,  and  searches  round  and  round ; 

At  last,  the  stone  removing  from  the  gate. 

With  hands  extended  in  the  midst  he  sate: 

And  search’d  each  passing  sheep,  and  felt  it  o’er. 

Secure  to  seize  us  ere  we  reach’d  the  door. 

(Such  as  his  shallow  wit  he  deem’d  was  mine;) 

But  secret  I  resolved  the  deep  design;  500 

’Twas  for  our  lives  my  labouring  bosom  wrought; 

Each  scheme  I  turn’d,  and  sharpen’d  every  thought; 

This  way  and  that  I  cast  to  save  my  friends, 

Till  one  resolve  my  varying  counsel  ends. 

“Strong  were  the  rams,  with  native  purple  fair. 

Well  fed,  and  largest  of  the  fleecy  care. 

These  three  and  three,  with  ozier  bands  we  tied, 

(The  twining  bands  the  Cyclop’s  bed  supplied;) 

The  midmost  bore  a  man,  the  outward  two 
Secured  each  side:  so  bound  we  all  the  crew.  510 

One  ram  remain’d,  the  leader  of  the  flock ; 

In  his  deep  fleece  my  grasping  hands  I  lock. 

And  fast  beneath,  in  woolly  curls  inwove. 

There  cling  implicit,  and  confide  in  Jove. 

When  rosy  morning  glimmer’d  o’er  the  dales. 

He  drove  to  pasture  all  the  lusty  males: 

The  ewes  still  folded,  with  distended  thighs. 

Unmilked,  lay  bleating  in  distressful  cries. 

But  heedless  of  those  cares,  with  anguish  stung. 

He  felt  their  fleeces  as  they  pass’d  along, 

(Fool  that  he  was !)  and  let  them  safely  go. 

All  unsuspecting  of  their  freight  below. 


520 


160 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  IX. 


“The  master-ram  at  last  approach’d  the  gate, 

Charged  with  his  wool,  and  with  Ulysses’  fate. 

Him  while  he  pass’d,  the  monster  blind  bespoke : 

“‘What  makes  my  ram  the  lag  of  all  the  flock? 

First  thou  wert  wont  to  crop  the  flowery  mead, 

First  to  the  field  and  river’s  bank  to  lead, 

And  first  with  stately  step  at  evening  hour 

Thy  fleecy  fellows  usher  to  their  bower.  530 

Now  far  the  last,  with  pensive  pace  and  slow 

Thou  movest,  as  conscious  of  thy  master’s  wo ! 

Seest  thou  these  lids  that  now  unfold  in  vain? 

(The  deed  of  Noman  and  his  wicked  train!) 

Oh !  didst  thou  feel  for  thy  afflicted  lord. 

And  would  but  Fate  the  power  of  speech  afford, 

Soon  might’st  thou  tell  me,  where  in  secret  here 
The  dastard  lurks,  all  trembling  with  his  fear: 

Swung  round  and  round,  and  dash’d  from  rock  to  rock, 
His  batter’d  brains  should  on  the  pavement  smoke.  540 
No  ease,  no  pleasure,  my  sad  heart  receives. 

While  such  a  monster  as  vile  Noman  lives.’ 

“The  giant  spoke,  and  through  the  hollow  rock 
Dismiss’d  the  ram,  the  father  of  the  flock. 

No  sooner  freed,  and  through  th’  enclosure  pass’d, 

First  I  release  myself,  my  fellows  last: 

Fat  sheep  and  goats  in  throngs  we  drive  before, 

And  reach  our  vessel  on  the  winding  shore. 

With  joy  the  sailors  view  their  friends  return’d, 

And  hail  us  living,  whom  as  dead  they  mourn’d :  550 

Big  tears  of  transport  stand  in  every  eye : 

I  check  their  fondness,  and  command  to  fly. 

Aboard  in  haste  they  heave  the  wealthy  sheep, 

And  snatch  their  oars  and  rush  into  the  deep. 

“Now  off  at  sea,  and  from  the  shallows  clear, 

As  far  as  human  voice  could  reach  the  ear, 

With  taunts  the  distant  giant  I  accost : 

‘“Hear  me,  O  Cyclop!  hear,  ungracious  host! 

’Twas  on  no  coward,  no  ignoble  slave, 

Thou  meditat’st  thy  meal  in  yonder  cave; 


560 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  IX. 


161 


But  one  the  vengeance  fated  from  above 
Doom’d  to  inflict;  the  instrument  of  Jove. 

Thy  barbarous  breach  of  hospitable  bands, 

The  god,  the  god  revenges  by  my  hands.’ 

“These  words  the  Cyclop’s  burning  rage  provoke: 
From  the  tall  hill  he  rends  a  pointed  rock; 

High  o’er  the  billows  flew  the  massy  load. 

And  near  the  ship  came  thundering  on  the  flood. 

It  almost  brush’d  the  helm,  and  fell  before: 

The  whole  sea  shook,  and  refluent  beat  the  shore.  570 
The  strong  concussion  on  the  heaving  tide 
Roll’d  back  the  vessel  to  the  island’s  side; 

Again  I  shoved  her  off;  our  fate  to  fly. 

Each  nerve  we  stretch,  and  every  oar  we  ply. 

Just  ’scaped  impending  death,  when  now  again 
We  twice  as  far  had  furrow’d  back  the  main. 

Once  more  I  raise  my  voice;  my  friends,  afraid. 

With  mild  entreaties  my  design  dissuade: 

“‘What  boots  the  godless  giant  to  provoke. 

Whose  arm  may  sink  us  at  a  single  stroke?  580 

Already  when  the  dreadful  rock  he  threw. 

Old  ocean  shook,  and  back  his  surges  flew. 

Thy  sounding  voice  directs  his  aim  again ; 

The  rock  o’erwhelms  us;  and  we  ’scaped  in  vain.’ 

“But  I,  of  mind  elate,  and  scorning  fear. 

Thus  with  new  taunts  insult  the  monster’s  ear: 

“‘Cyclop!  if  any,  pitying  thy  disgrace. 

Ask  who  disfigured  thus  that  eyeless  face? 

:  Say,  ’Twas  Ulysses;  ’twas  his  deed  declare, 

Laertes  son,  of  Ithaca  the  fair;  590 

Ulysses,  far  in  fighting  fields  renown’d. 

Before  whose  arm  Troy  tumbled  to  the  ground.’ 

“Th’  astonish’d  savage  with  a  roar  replies: 

‘Oh  heavens!  oh  faith  of  ancient  prophecies! 

I  This,  Telemus  Eurymedes  foretold, 

(The  mighty  seer  who  on  these  hills  grew  old ; 

'Skill’d  the  dark  fates  of  mortals  to  declare. 

And  learn’d  in  all  wing’d  omens  of  the  air:) 


162 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  IX. 


Long  since  he  menaced,  such  was  Fate’s  command; 

And  named  Ulysses  as  the  destined  hand. 

I  deem’d  some  godlike  giant  to  behold, 

Or  lofty  hero,  haughty,  brave,  and  bold; 

Not  this  weak  pigmy-wretch,  of  mean  design. 

Who  not  by  strength  subdued  me,  but  by  wine. 

But  come,  accept  our  gifts,  and  join  to  pray 
Great  Neptune’s  blessing  on  the  watery  way; 

For  his  I  am,  and  I  the  lineage  own; 

Th’  immortal  father  no  less  boasts  the  son. 

His  power  can  heal  me,  and  relight  my  eye ; 

And  only  his,  of  all  the  gods  on  high.’ 

“‘Oh!  could  this  arm’  (I  thus  aloud  rejoin’d) 

‘From  that  vast  bulk  dislodge  thy  bloody  mind. 

And  send  thee  howling  to  the  realms  of  night. 

As  sure  as  Neptune  cannot  give  thee  sight!’ 

“Thus  I;  while  raging  he  repeats  his  cries. 

With  hands  uplifted  to  the  starry  skies: 

“‘Hear  me,  O  Neptune!  thou  whose  arms  are  hurl’d 
From  shore  to  shore,  and  gird  the  solid  world. 

If  thine  I  am,  nor  thou  my  birth  disown. 

And  if  th’  unhappy  Cyclop  be  thy  son ;  620 

Let  not  Ulysses  breathe  his  native  air, 

Laertes  son,  of  Ithaca  the  fair. 

If  to  review  his  country  be  his  fate. 

Be  it  through  toils  and  sufferings  long  and  late ; 

His  lost  companions  let  him  first  deplore; 

Some  vessel,  not  his  own,  transport  him  o’er; 

And  when  at  home  from  foreign  sufferings  freed. 

More  near  and  deep,  domestic  woes  succeed.’ 

“With  imprecations  thus  he  fill’d  the  air. 

And  angry  Neptune  heard  th’  unrighteous  prayer.  630 
A  larger  rock  then  heaving  from  the  plain. 

He  whirl’d  it  round ;  it  sung  across  the  main ; 

It  fell,  and  brush’d  the  stern:  the  billows  roar. 

Shake  at  the  weight,  and  refluent  beat  the  shore. 

With  all  our  force  we  kept  aloof  to  sea. 

And  gain’d  the  island  where  our  vessels  lay. 


^  600 


610 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  IX. 


Our  sight  the  whole  collected  navy  cheer’d, 

Who,  'waiting  long,  by  turns  had  hoped  and  fear’d. 
There,  disembarking  on  the  green  sea-side, 

We  land  our  cattle,  and  the  spoil  divide: 

Of  these  due  shares  to  every  sailor  fall; 

The  master-ram  was  voted  mine  by  all: 

And  him  (the  guardian  of  Ulysses’  fate) 

With  pious  mind  to  Heaven  I  consecrate. 

But  the  great  god,  whose  thunder  rends  the  skies. 
Averse,  beholds  the  smoking  sacrifice; 

And  sees  me  wandering  still  from  coast  to  coast ; 
And  all  my  vessels,  all  my  people,  lost ! 

While  thoughtless  we  indulge  the  genial  rite. 

As  plenteous  cates  and  flowing  bowls  invite. 

Till  evening  Phoebus  roll’d  away  the  light : 
Stretch’d  on  the  shore  in  careless  ease  we  rest 
Till  ruddy  morning  purpled  o’er  the  east; 

Then  from  their  anchors  all  our  ships  unbind. 

And  mount  the  decks,  and  call  the  willing  wind. 
Now,  ranged  in  order,  on  our  banks  we  sweep,  , 
With  hasty  strokes  the  hoarse-resounding  deep ; 
Blind  to  the  future,  pensive  with  our  fears. 

Glad  for  the  living,  for  the  dead  in  tears.” 


BOOK  X. 

Adventures  with  JEolus,  the  Lwstrygones,  and  Circe. 


Argument. — Ulysses  arrives  at  the  island  of  ^olus,  who  g’ives  him  prosper¬ 
ous  winds,  and  incloses  the  adverse  ones  in  a  bag,  which  his  companions 
untying,  they  are  driven  back  again,  and  rejected.  Then  they  sail  to  the 
Lsestrygones,  where  they  lose  eleven  ships,  and  with  one  only  remaining, 
proceed  to  the  island  of  Circb.  Eurylochus  is  sent  first  with  some  com¬ 
panions,  all  which,  except  Eurylochus,  are  transformed  into  swine. 
Ulysses  then  undertakes  the  adventure,  and  by  the  help  of  Mercury, 
who  gives  him  the  herb  moly,  overcomes  the  enchantress,  and  procures 
the  restoration  of  his  men.  After  a  year’s  stay  with  her,  he  prepares,  at 
her  instigation,  for  his  voyage  to  the  infernal  shades. 

“At  length  we  reach’d  .folia’s  sea-girt  shore, 

Where  great  Hippotades  the  sceptre  bore, 

A  floating  isle !  High  raised  by  toil  divine. 

Strong  walls  of  brass  the  rocky  coast  confine. 

Six  blooming  youths,  in  private  grandeur  bred. 

And  six  fair  daughters,  graced  the  royal  bed ; 

These  sons  their  sisters  wed,  and  all  remain 
Their  parents’  pride,  and  pleasure  of  their  reign. 

All  day  they  feast,  all  day  the  bowls  flow  round. 

And  joy  and  music  through  the  isle  resound:  10 

All  night  each  pair  on  splendid  carpets  lay. 

And  crown’d  with  love  the  pleasures  of  the  day. 

This  happy  port  affords  our  wandering  fleet 
A  month’s  reception,  and  a  safe  retreat. 

Full  oft  the  monarch  urged  me  to  relate 
The  fall  of  Ilion,  and  the  Grecian  fate ; 

Full  oft  I  told ;  at  length  for  parting  moved ; 

The  king  with  mighty  gifts  my  suit  approved. 

The  adverse  winds  in  leathern  bags  he  braced. 
Compress’d  their  force,  and  lock’d  each  struggling  blast.  20 
For  him  the  mighty  sire  of  gods  assign’d 
The  tempest’s  lord,  the  tyrant  of  the  wind : 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  X. 


165 


His  word  alonathe  listening  storms  obey, 

To  smooth  the  deep,  or  swell  the  foamy  sea. 

These  in  my  hollow  ship  the  monarch  hung. 

Securely  fetter’d  by  a  silver  thong; 

But  Zephyrus  exempt,  with  friendly  gales 
He  charged  to  fill  and  guide  the  swelling  sails: 

Rare  gift!  but,  oh,  what  gift  to  fools  avails! 

“Nine  prosperous  days  we  plied  the  labouring  oar;  30 
The  tenth  presents  our  welcome  native  shore: 

The  hills  display  the  beacon’s  friendly  light. 

And  rising  mountains  gain  upon  our  sight. 

Then  first  my  eyes,  by  watchful  toils  oppress’d. 

Complied  to  take  the  balmy  gifts  of  rest; 

Then  first  my  hands  did  from  the  rudder  part 
(So  much  the  love  of  home  possess’d  my  heart ;) 

When,  lo !  on  board  a  fond  debate  arose. 

What  rare  device  those  vessels  might  enclose? 

What  sum,  what  prize,  from  ^olus  I  brought?  40 

While  to  his  neighbour  each  express’d  his  thought. 

“‘Say,  whence,  ye  gods!  contending  nations  strive 
Who  most  shall  please,  who  most  our  hero  give? 

Long  have  his  coffers  groan’d  with  Trojan  spoils; 

While  we,  the  wretched  partners  of  his  toils. 

Reproach’d  by  want,  our  fruitless  labours  mourn. 

And  only  rich  in  barren  fame  return. 

Now  iEolus,  ye  see,  augments  his  store : 

But  come,  my  friends,  these  mystic  gifts  explore.’ 

“  They  said ;  and  (oh,  cursed  fate !)  the  thongs  unbound ! 
The  gushing  tempest  sweeps  the  ocean  round;  51 

Snatch’d  in  the  whirl,  the  hurried  navy  flew. 

The  ocean  widen’d,  and  the  shores  withdrew. 

Roused  from  my  fatal  sleep,  I  long  debate 
If  still  to  live,  or  desperate  plunge  to  fate; 

Thus  doubting,  prostrate  on  the  deck  I  lay. 

Till  all  the  coward  thoughts  of  death  gave  way. 

“Meanwhile,  our  vessels  plough  the  liquid  plain. 

And  soon  the  known  iEolian  coast  regain. 

Our  groans  the  rocks  remurmur’d  to  the  main. 


60 


166 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  X. 


We  leap’d  on  shore,  and  with  a  scanty  feast 
Our  thirst  and  hunger  hastily  repress’d ; 

That  done,  two  chosen  heralds  straight  attend 
Our  second  progress  to  my  royal  friend: 

And  him  amidst  his  jovial  sons  we  found ; 

The  banquets  steaming  and  the  goblets  crown’d: 

There  humbly  stopp’d  with  conscious  shame  and  awe. 
Nor  nearer  than  the  gate  presumed  to  draw. 

But  soon  his  sons  their  well-known  guest  descried. 

And,  starting  from  their  couches,  loudly  cried:  70 

“‘Ulysses  here!  what  demon  could’st  thou  meet 
To  thwart  thy  passage,  and  repel  thy  fleet? 

Wast  thou  not  furnish’d  by  our  choicest  care 
For  Greece,  for  home,  and  all  thy  soul  held  dear?’ 

“Thus  they;  in  silence  long  my  fate  I  mourn’d. 

At  length  these  words  with  accent  low  return’d: 

“‘Me,  lock’d  in  sleep,  my  faithless  crew  bereft 
Of  all  the  blessings  of  your  godlike  gift! 

But  grant,  oh  grant,  our  loss  we  may  retrieve! 

A  favour  you,  and  you  alone,  can  give.’  80 

“Thus  I  with  art  to  move  their  pity  tried. 

And  touch’d  the  youths ;  but  their  stern  sire  replied : 

“‘Vile  wretch,  begone!  this  instant  I  command 
Thy  fleet  accursed  to  leave  our  hallow’d  land. 

His  baneful  suit  pollutes  these  bless’d  abodes. 

Whose  fate  proclaims  him  hateful  to  the  gods.’ 

“Thus  fierce  he  said:  we  sighing  went  our  way. 

And  with  desponding  hearts  put  off  to  sea. 

The  sailors,  spent  with  toil,  their  folly  mourn. 

But  mourn  in  vain;  no  prospect  of  return:  90 

Six  days  and  nights  a  doubtful  course  we  steer ; 

The  next,  proud  Lamos’  stately  towers  appear. 

And  Lsestrygonia’s  gates  arise  distinct  in  air. 

The  shepherd,  quitting  here  at  night  the  plain. 

Calls,  to  succeed  his  cares,  the  watchful  swain ; 

But  he  that  scorns  the  chains  of  sleep  to  wear, 

And  adds  the  herdsman’s  to  the  shepherd’s  care. 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  X. 


167 


So  near  the  pastures,  and  so  short  the  way, 

His  double  toils  may  claim  a  double  pay, 

And  join  the  labours  of  the  night  and  day.  100 

“Within  a  long  recess  a  bay  there  lies. 

Edged  round  with  cliffs  high  pointing  to  the  skies: 

The  jutting  shores  that  swell  on  either  side 
Contract  its  mouth,  and  break  the  rushing  tide. 

Our  eager  sailors  seize  the  fair  retreat, 

And  bound  within  the  port  their  crowded  fleet ; 

For  here  retired,  the  sinking  billows  sleep. 

And  smiling  calmness  silver’d  o’er  the  deep. 

I  only  in  the  bay  refused  to  moor. 

And  fix’d,  without,  my  halsers  to  the  shore.  110 

“From  thence  we  climb’d  a  point,  whose  airy  brow 
Commands  the  prospect  of  the  plains  below: 

No  tracks  of  beasts,  or  signs  of  men,  we  found. 

But  smoky  volumes  rolling  from  the  ground. 

Two  with  our  herald  thither  we  command. 

With  speed  to  learn  what  men  possess’d  the  land. 

They  went,  and  kept  the  wheel’s  smooth  beaten  road. 
Which  to  the  city  drew  the  mountain  wood ; 

When,  lo !  they  met  beside  a  crystal  spring, 

The  daughter  of  Antiphates  the  king:  120 

She  to  Artacia’s  silver  streams  came  down; 

(Artacia’s  streams  alone  supply  the  town:) 

The  damsel  they  approach,  and  ask’d  what  race 
The  people  were?  who  monarch  of  the  place? 

With  joy  the  maid  th’  unwary  strangers  heard. 

And  show’d  them  where  the  royal  dome  appear’d. 

They  went;  but  as  they,  entering,  saw  the  queen. 

Of  size  enormous,  and  terrific  mien, 

(Not  yielding  to  some  bulky  mountain’s  height,) 

A  sudden  horror  struck  their  aching  sight.  130 

Swift  at  her  call  her  husband  scour’d  away 
To  wreak  his  hunger  on  the  destined  prey; 

One  for  his  food  the  raging  glutton  slew. 

But  two  rush’d  out,  and  to  the  navy  flew. 

“Balk’d  of  his  prey,  the  yelling  monster  flies. 

And  fills  the  city  with  his  hideous  cries; 


168 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  X. 


A  ghastly  band  of  giants  hear  the  roar, 

And,  pouring  down  the  mountains,  crowd  the  shore. 
Fragments  they  rend  from  off  the  craggy  brow. 

And  dash  the  ruins  on  the  ships  below;  140 

The  crackling  vessels  burst;  hoarse  groans  arise. 

And  mingled  horrors  echo  to  the  skies; 

The  men,  like  fish,  they  stuck  upon  the  flood, 

And  cramm’d  their  filthy  throats  with  human  food. 

While  thus  their  fury  rages  at  the  bay. 

My  sword  our  cables  cut,  I  call’d  to  weigh; 

And  charged  my  men,  as  they  from  fate  would  fly. 

Each  nerve  to  strain,  each  bending  oar  to  ply, 

The  sailors  catch  the  word,  their  oars  they  seize. 

And  sweep  with  equal  strokes  the  smoky  seas:  150 

Clear  of  the  rocks  th’  impatient  vessel  flies; 

While  in  the  port  each  wretch  encumber’d  dies. 

With  earnest  haste  my  frighted  sailors  press. 

While  kindling  transports  glow’d  at  our  success ; 

But  the  sad  fate  that  did  our  friends  destroy 
Cool’d  every  breast,  and  damp’d  the  rising  joy. 

“Now  dropp’d  our  anchors  in  iEsBan  bay. 

Where  Circ^  dwell’d,  the  daughter  of  the  Day ! 

Her  mother  Pers^,  of  old  Ocean’s  strain. 

Thus  from  the  Sun  descended,  and  the  Main,  160 

(From  the  same  lineage  stern  iEetes  came. 

The  far-famed  brother  of  th’  enchantress  dame,) 

Goddess  and  queen,  to  whom  the  powers  belong 
Of  dreadful  magic  and  commanding  song. 

Some  god  directing,  to  this  peaceful  bay 
Silent  we  came,  and  melancholy  lay. 

Spent  and  o’erwatch’d.  Two  days  and  nights  roll’d  on, 
And  now  the  third  succeeding  morning  shone. 

I  climb’d  a  cliff,  with  spear  and  sword  in  hand. 

Whose  ridge  o’erlook’d  a  shady  length  of  land,  170 

To  learn  if  aught  of  mortal  works  appear. 

Or  cheerful  voice  of  mortal  strike  the  ear. 

From  the  high  point  I  mark’d,  in  distant  view, 

A  stream  of  curling  smoke  ascending  blue, 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  X. 


169 


And  spiry  tops,  the  tufted  trees  above, 

Of  Circe’s  palace,  bosom’d  in  the  grove. 

“Thither  to  haste,  the  region  to  explore. 

Was  my  first  thought:  but  speeding  back  to  shore 
I  deem’d  it  best  to  visit  first  my  crew. 

And  send  out  spies  the  dubious  coast  to  view.  180 

As  down  the  hill  I  solitary  go. 

Some  power  divine,  who  pities  human  wo. 

Sent  a  tall  stag,  descending  from  the  wood, 

To  cool  his  fervour  in  the  crystal  flood; 

Luxuriant  on  the  wave- worn  bank  he  lay, 

Stretch’d  forth,  and  panting  in  the  sunny  ray. 

I  launch’d  my  spear,  and  with  a  sudden  wound 
Transpierced  his  back,  and  fix’d  him  to  the  ground. 

He  falls,  and  mourns  his  fate  with  human  cries: 

Through  the  wide  wound  the  vital  spirit  flies.  190 

I  drew,  and  casting  on  the  river’s  side 
The  bloody  spear,  his  gather’d  feet  I  tied 
With  twining  osiers,  which  the  bank  supplied. 

An  ell  in  length  the  pliant  wisp  I  weaved, 

And  the  huge  body  on  my  shoulders  heaved : 

Then  leaning  on  my  spear  with  both  my  hands. 

Upbore  my  load,  and  press’d  the  sinking  sands 
With  weighty  steps,  till  at  the  ship  I  threw 
The  welcome  burden,  and  bespoke  my  crew: 

“‘Cheer  up,  my  friends!  it  is  not  yet  our  fate  200 
To  glide  with  ghosts  through  Pluto’s  gloomy  gate. 

Food  in  the  desert  land,  behold!  is  given; 

Live,  and  enjoy  the  providence  of  Heaven.’ 

“The  joyful  crew  survey  his  mighty  size. 

And  on  the  future  banquet  feast  their  eyes. 

As  huge  in  length  extended  lay  the  beast ; 

Then  wash  their  hands,  and  hasten  to  the  feast. 

There,  till  the  setting  sun  roll’d  down  the  light, 

They  sate,  indulging  in  the  genial  rite. 

When  evening  rose,  and  darkness  cover’d  o’er  210 

The  face  of  things,  we  slept  along  the  shore. 

1  But  when  the  rosy  morning  warmed  the  east, 

.  My  men  I  summon’d,  and  these  words  address’d : 

8 


170 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  X. 


“‘Followers  and  friends!  attend  what  I  propose; 
Ye  sad  companions  of  Ulysses’  woes! 

We  know  not  here  what  land  before  us  lies, 

Or  to  what  quarter  now  we  turn  our  eyes, 

Or  where  the  sun  shall  set,  or  where  shall  lise. 
Here  let  us  think  (if  thinking  be  not  vain) 

If  any  counsel,  any  hope  remain. 

Alas !  from  yonder  promontory’s  brow 
I  view’d  the  coast,  a  region  flat  and  low: 

An  isle  encircled  with  the  boundless  flood ; 

A  length  of  thickets,  and  entangled  wood. 

Some  smoke  I  saw  amid  the  forests  rise. 

And  all  around  it  only  seas  and  skies !’ 

“With  broken  hearts  my  sad  companions  stood. 
Mindful  of  Cyclops  and  his  human  food. 

And  horrid  Laestrygons,  the  men  of  blood. 
Presaging  tears  apace  began  to  rain; 

But  tears  in  mortal  miseries  are  vain. 

In  equal  parts  I  straight  divide  my  band. 

And  name  a  chief  each  party  to  command; 

I  led  the  one,  and  of  the  other  side 
Appointed  brave  Eurylochus  the  guide. 

Then  in  the  brazen  helm  the  lots  we  throw. 

And  fortune  casts  Eurylochus  to  go: 

He  march’d  with  twice  eleven  in  his  train; 
Pensive  they  march,  and  pensive  we  remain. 

“The  palace  in  a  woody  vale  they  found. 

High  raised  of  stone ;  a  shaded  space  around ; 
Where  mountain-wolves  and  brindled  lions  roam. 
By  magic  tamed,  familiar  to  the  dome. 

With  gentle  blandishment  our  men  they  meet. 
And  wag  their  tails,  and  fawning  lick  their  feet. 
As  from  some  feast  a  man  returning  late. 

His  faithful  dogs  all  meet  him  at  the  gate. 
Rejoicing  round,  some  morsel  to  receive, 

(Such  as  the  good  man  ever  used  to  give.) 
Domestic  thus  the  grisly  beasts  drew  near: 

They  gaze  with  wonder,  not  unmix’d  with  fear. 


220 


230 


240 


250 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  X. 


171 


Now  on  the  threshold  of  the  dome  they  stood, 

And  heard  a  voice  resounding  through  the  wood: 

Placed  at  her  loom  within,  the  goddess  sung: 

The  vaulted  roofs  and  solid  pavement  rung. 

O’er  the  fair  web  the  rising  figures  shine. 

Immortal  labour !  worthy  hands  divine. 

Polites  to  the  rest  the  question  moved 
(A  gallant  leader,  and  the  man  I  loved): 

“‘What  voice  celestial,  chanting  to  the  loom,  260 
Or  nymph  or  goddess,  echoes  from  the  room? 

Say,  shall  we  seek  access?’ — With  that  they  call; 

And  wide  unfold  the  portals  of  the  hall. 

“The  goddess,  rising,  asks  her  guests  to  stay. 

Who  blindly  follow  where  she  leads  the  way. 

Eurylochus  alone  of  all  the  band. 

Suspecting  fraud,  more  prudently  remain’d. 

On  thrones  around  with  downy  coverings  graced. 

With  semblance  fair,  th’  unhappy  men  she  placed. 

Milk  newly  press’d,  the  sacred  flour  of  wheat,  270 

And  honey  fresh,  and  Pramnian  wines  the  treat: 

But  venom’d  was  the  bread,  and  mix’d  the  bowl 
With  drugs  of  force,  to  darken  all  the  soul: 

Soon  in  the  luscious  feast  themselves  they  lost. 

And  drank  oblivion  of  their  native  coast. 

Instant  her  circling  wand  the  goddess  waves. 

To  hogs  transforms  them,  and  the  sty  receives. 

No  more  was  seen  the  human  form  divine; 

Head,  face,  and  members,  bristle  into  swine: 

Still  cursed  with  sense,  their  minds  remain  alone,  280 
And  their  own  voice  aifrights  them  when  they  groan. 
Meanwhile,  the  goddess  in  disdain  bestows 
The  mast  and  acom,  brutal  food!  and  strows 
The  fruits  of  cornel,  as  their  feast,  around; 

Now  prone  and  grovelling  on  unsavoury  ground. 

“Eurylochus,  with  pensive  steps  and  slow, 

Aghast  returns;  the  messenger  of  wo. 

And  bitter  fate.  To  speak  he  made  essay. 

In  vain  essay’d,  nor  would  his  tongue  obey ; 

His  swelling  heart  denied  the  words  their  way : 


290  ‘ 


172 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  X. 


But  speaking  tears  the  want  of  words  supply, 

And  the  full  soul  bursts  copious  from  his  eye. 

Atfrighted,  anxious  for  our  fellows’  fates, 

We  press  to  hear  what  sadly  he  relates: 

“‘We  went,  Ulysses!  (such  was  thy  command!) 
Through  the  lone  thicket  and  the  desert  land. 

A  palace  in  a  woody  vale  we  found. 

Brown  with  dark  forests,  and  with  shades  around. 

A  voice  celestial  echoed  from  the  dome. 

Or  nymph  or  goddess  chanting  to  the  loom.  300 

Access  we  sought,  nor  was  access  denied: 

Radiant  she  came;  the  portals  open’d  wide: 

The  goddess  mild  invites  the  guests  to  stay: 

They  blindly  follow  where  she  leads  the  way. 

I  only  wait  behind,  of  all  the  train : 

I  waited  long,  and  eyed  the  doors  in  vain: 

The  rest  are  vanish’d,  none  repass’d  the  gate; 

And  not  a  man  appears  to  tell  their  fate.’ 

“I  heard,  and  instant  o’er  my  shoulders  flung 
The  belt  in  which  my  weighty  faulchion  hung;  310 

(A  beamy  blade ;)  then  seized  the  bended  bow. 

And  bade  him  guide  the  way,  resolved  to  go. 

He,  prostrate  falling,  with  both  hands  embraced 
My  knees,  and,  weeping,  thus  his  suit  address’d : 

“‘O  king,  beloved  of  Jove!  thy  servant  spare. 

And,  ah,  thyself  the  rash  attempt  forbear ! 

Never,  alas!  thou  never  shalt  return. 

Or  see  the  wretched  for  whose  loss  we  mourn. 

With  what  remains,  from  certain  ruin  fly, 

And  save  the  few  not  fated  yet  to  die.’  320 

“I  answer’d  stern:  ‘Inglorious  then  remain, 

Here  feast  and  loiter,  and  desert  thy  train. 

Alone,  unfriended,  will  I  tempt  my  way; 

The  laws  of  fate  compel,  and  I  obey.’ 

“This  said,  and  scornful  turning  from  the  shore 
My  haughty  step,  I  stalk’d  the  valley  o’er. 

Till  now  approaching  nigh  the  magic  bower. 

Where  dwelt  th’  enchantress,  skill’d  in  herbs  of  power; 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  X. 


173 


A  form  divine  forth  issued  from  the  wood 
(Immortal  Hermes  with  the  golden  rod)  330 

In  human  semblance.  On  his  bloomy  face 
Youth  smiled  celestial,  with  each  opening  grace. 

He  seized  my  hand,  and  gracious  thus  began: 

“‘Ah,  whither  roam’st  thou,  much-enduring  man? 

Oh,  blind  to  fate !  what  led  thy  steps  to  rove 
The  horrid  mazes  of  this  magic  grove? 

Each  friend  you  seek  in  yon  enclosure  lies. 

All  lost  their  form,  and  habitants  of  sties. 

Think’ st  thou  by  wit  to  model  their  escape? 

Sooner  shalt  thou,  a  stranger  to  thy  shape,  340 

Fall  prone  their  equal :  first  thy  danger  know, 

Then  take  the  antidote  the  gods  bestow. 

The  plant  I  give,  through  all  the  direful  bower 
Shall  guard  thee,  and  avert  the  evil  hour. 

Now  hear  her  wicked  arts :  Before  thy  eyes 
The  bowl  shall  sparkle,  and  the  banquet  rise ; 

Take  this,  nor  from  the  faithless  feast  abstain. 

For  temper’d  drugs  and  poisons  shall  be  vain. 

Soon  as  she  strikes  her  wand,  and  gives  the  word, 

Draw  forth  and  brandish  thy  refulgent  sword,  350 

And  menace  death;  those  menaces  shall  move 
Her  alter’d  mind  to  blandishment  and  love. 

Nor  shun  the  blessing  proffer’d  to  thy  arms. 

Ascend  her  bed,  and  taste  celestial  charms: 

So  shall  thy  tedious  toils  a  respite  find. 

And  thy  lost  friends  return  to  human-kind. 

But  swear  her  first  by  those  dread  oaths  that  tie 
The  powers  below,  the  blessed  in  the  sky; 

Lest  to  thee,  naked,  secret  fraud  be  meant. 

Or  magic  bind  thee  cold  and  impotent.’  .  360 

“Thus  while  he  spoke,  the  sovereign  plant  he  drew. 
Where  on  th’  all-bearing  earth  unmark’d  it  grew. 

And  show’d  its  nature  and.  its  wondrous  power: 

Black  was  the  root,  but  milky  white  the  flower ; 

Moly  the  name,  to  mortals  hard  to  find. 

But  all  is  easv  to  th’  ethereal  kind. 


174 


THE 


ODYSSEY,  BOOK  X. 


370 


This  Hermes  gave ;  then,  gliding  off  the  glade, 

Shot  to  Olympus  from  the  woodland  shade. 

While,  full  of  thought,  revolving  fates  to  come, 

1  speed  my  passage  to  th’  enchanted  dome. 

Arrived,  before  the  lofty  gates  I  stay’d;  ^ 

The  lofty  gates  the  goddess  wide  display’d: 

She  leads  before,  and  to  the  feast  invites ; 

I  follow  sadly  to  the  magic  rites. 

Radiant  with  starry  studs,  a  silver  seat 
Received  my  limbs ;  a  footstool  eased  my  feet. 

She  mix’d  the  potion,  fraudulent  of  soul ; 

The  poison  mantled  in  the  golden  bowl. 

I  took,  and  quaff’d  it,  confident  in  Heaven. 

Then  waved  the  wand,  and  then  the  word  was  given:  380 
‘Hence  to  thy  fellows!’  (dreadful  she  began) 

‘Go,  be  a  beast!’— I  heard,  and  yet  was  man. 

“Then  sudden  whirling,  like  a  waving  flame. 

My  beamy  faulchion,  I  assault  the  dame. 

Struck  with  unusual  fear,  she  trembling  cries. 

She  faints,  she  falls;  she  lifts  her  weeping  eyes,  [came? 

“‘What  art  thou?  say!  from  whence,  from  whom  you 
Oh,  more  than  human!  tell  thy  race,  thy  name. 

Amazing  strength,  these  poisons  to  sustain ! 

Nor  mortal  thou,  nor  mortal  is  thy  brain. 

Or  art  thou  he?  the  man  to  come,  (foretold 
By  Hermes,  powerful  with  the  wand  of  gold?) 

The  man  from  Troy,  who  wander’d  ocean  round ; 

The  man  for  wisdom’s  various  arts  renown’d, 

Ulysses?  Oh!  thy  threatening  fury  cease. 

Sheath  thy  bright  sword,  and  join  our  hands  in  peace ! 
Let  mutual  joys  our  mutual  trust  combine. 

And  love,  and  love-born  confidence,  be  thine.’ 

“‘And  how,  dread  Circ4!’  furious  I  rejoin, 

‘Can  love,  and  love-born  confidence,  be  mine? 

Beneath  thy  charms  when  my  companions  groan. 
Transform’d  to  beasts,  with  accents  not  their  own? 

Oh,  thou  of  fraudful  heart,  shall  I  be  led 
To  share  thy  feast-rites,  or  ascend  thy  bed, 


390 


400 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  X. 


175 


That,  all  unarm’d,  thy  vengeance  may  have  vent. 

And  magic  bind  me,  cold  and  impotent? 

Celestial  as  thou  art,  yet  stand  denied ; 

Or  swear  that  oath  by  which  the  gods  are  tied. 

Swear,  in  thy  soul  no  latent  frauds  remain. 

Swear  by  the  vow  which  never  can  be  vain.’  410 

“The  goddess  swore:  then  seized  my  hand,  and  led 
To  the  sweet  transports  of  the  genial  bed. 

Minislrant  to  their  queen,  with  busy  care 
Four  faithful  handmaids  the  soft  rites  prepare ; 

Nymphs  sprung  from  fountains,  or  from  shady  woods, 

Or  the  fair  offspring  of  the  sacred  floods. 

One  o’er  the  couches  painted  carpets  threw. 

Whose  purple  lustre  glow’d  against  the  view: 

White  linen  lay  beneath.  Another  placed 

The  silver  stands,  with  golden  flaskets  graced:  420 

With  dulcet  beverage  this  the  beaker  crown’d. 

Fair  in  the  midst,  with  gilded  cups  around ; 

That  in  the  tripod  o’er  the  kindled  pile 
The  water  pours ;  the  bubbling  waters  boil ; 

An  ample  vase  receives  the  smoking  wave; 

And,  in  the  bath  prepared,  my  limbs  I  lave; 

Reviving  sweets  repair  the  mind’s  decay, 

And  take  the  painful  sense  of  toil  away. 

A  vest  and  tunic  o’er  me  next  she  threw. 

Fresh  from  the  bath,  and  dropping  balmy  dew ;  430 

Then  led  and  placed  me  on  the  sovereign  seat. 

With  carpets  spread;  a  footstool  at  my  feet. 

The  golden  ewer  a  nymph  obsequious  brings, 

Replenish’d  from  the  cool  translucent  springs, 

With  copious  water  the  bright  vase  supplies 
A  silver  laver  of  capacious  size. 

I  wash’d.  The  table  in  fair  order  spread. 

They  heap  the  glittering  canisters  with  bread; 

Viands  of  various  kinds  allure  the  taste, 

Of  choicest  sort  and  savour — rich  repast !  44( 

Circ^  in  vain  invites  the  feast  to  share ; 

Absent  I  ponder,  and  absorb’d  in  care: 


176 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  X. 


While  scenes  of  wo  rose  anxious  in  my  breast,  ^  « 

The  queen  beheld  me,  and  these  words  address’d: 

“‘Why  sits  Ulysses  silent  and  apart,  ./ 

Some  hoard  of  grief  close  harbour’d  at  his  heart?  ? 

Untouch’d  before  thee  stand  the  cates  divine, 

And  unregarded  laughs  the  rosy  wine. 

Can  yet  a  doubt  or  any  dread  remain. 

When  sworn  that  oath  which  never  can  be  vain?’  450 
“I  answer’d:  ‘Goddess!  human  is  my  breast. 

By  justice  sway’d,  by  tender  pity  press’d: 

Ill  fits  it  me,  whose  friends  ^re  sunk  to  beasts. 

To  quaff  thy  bowls,  or  riot  in  thy  feasts. 

Me  would’st  thou  please?  for  them  thy  cares  employ, 

And  them  to  me  restore,  and  me  to  joy.’ 

“With  that  she  parted;  in  her  potent  hand 
She  bore  the  virtue  of  the  magic  wand. 

Then,  hastening  to  the  sties,  set  wide  the  door. 

Urged  forth,  and  drove  the  bristly  herd  before;  460 

Unwieldy,  out  they  rush’d  with  general  cry. 

Enormous  beasts,  dishonest  to  the  eye. 

Now  touch’d  by  counter-charms,  they  change  again, 

And  stand  majestic,  and  recall’d  to  men. 

Those  hairs  of  late  that  bristled  every  part. 

Fall  off — miraculous  effect  of  art ! — 

Till  all  the  form  in  full  proportion  rise, 

More  young,  more  large,  more  graceful  to  my  eyes. 

They  saw,  they  knew  me,  and  with  eager  pace 
Clung  to  their  master  in  a  long  embrace :  470 

Sad,  pleasing  sight!  with  tears  each  eye  ran  o’er, 

And  sobs  of  joy  reechoed  through  the  bower : 

Ev’n  Circ^  wept,  her  adamantine  heart 
Felt  pity  enter,  and  sustain’d  her  part. 

“‘Son  of  Laertes!’  (then  the  queen  began) 

‘Oh,  much-enduring,  much-experienced  man! 

Haste  to  thy  vessel  on  the  sea-beat  shore. 

Unload  thy  treasures,  and  the  galley  moor; 

Then  bring  thy  friends,  secure  from  future  harms, 

And  in  our  grottoes  stow  thy  spoils  and  arms.’ 


480 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  X. 


177 


“She  said.  Obedient  to  her  high  command 
I  quit  the  place,  and  hasten  to  the  strand. 

My  sad  companions  on  the  beach  I  found, 

Their  wistful  eyes  in  floods  of  sorrow  drown’d. 

As  from  fresh  pastures  and  the  dewy  field. 

When  loaded  cribs  their  evening  banquet  yield, 

The  lowing  herds  return;  around  them  throng 
With  leaps  and  bounds  their  late-imprison’d  young, 

Rush  to  their  mothers  with  unruly  joy. 

And  echoing  hills  return  the  tender  cry;  490 

So  round  me  press’d,  exulting  at  my  sight, 

V/ith  cries  and  agonies  of  wild  delight. 

The  weeping  sailors;  nor  less  fierce  their  joy 
Than  if  return’d  to  Ithaca  from  Troy. 

“‘Ah,  master!  ever  honour’d,  ever  dear!’ 

(These  tender  words  on  every  side  I  hear) 

‘What  other  joy  can  equal  thy  return? 

Not  that  loved  country  for  whose  sight  we  mourn, 

The  soil  that  nursed  us,  and  that  gave  us  breath: 

But,  ah!  relate  our  lost  companions’  death.’  500 

“I  answer’d  cheerfully:  ‘Haste,  your  galley  moor. 

And  bring  our  treasures  and  our  arms  ashore : 

Those  in  yon  hollow  cavern  let  us  lay; 

Then  rise  and  follow  where  I  lead  the  way. 

Your  fellows  live:  believe  your  eyes,  and  come 
To  taste  the  joys  of  Circe’s  sacred  dome.’ 

“With  ready  speed  the  joyful  crew  obey: 

Alone  Eurylochus  persuades  their  stay. 

“‘Whither,’  he  cried,  ‘ah  whither  will  ye  run? 

Seek  ye  to  meet  those  evils  ye  should  shun?  510 

Will  you  the  terrors  of  the  dome  explore. 

In  swine  to  grovel,  or  in  lions  roar. 

Or,  wolf-like,  howl  away  the  midnight  hour 
In  dreadful  watch  around  the  magic  bower? 

Remember  Cyclops,  and  his  bloody  deed ; 

The  leader’s  rashness  made  the  soldiers  bleed.’ 

“I  heard  incensed,  and  first  resolved  to  speed 
My  flying  faulchion  at  the  rebel’s  head. 

8*  M 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  X. 


178 

Dear  as  he  was,  by  ties  of  kindred  bound, 

This  hand  had  stretch’d  him  breathless  on  the  ground. 
But  all  at  once  my  interposing  train  ^ 

For  mercy  pleaded,  nor  could  plead  in  vain. 

‘“Leave  here  the  man  who  dares  his  prince  deseit. 
Leave  to  repentance  and  his  own  sad  heart. 

To  guard  the  ship.  Seek  we  the  sacred  shades 
Of  Circd’s  palace,  where  Ulysses  leads.’  ^ 

“This  with  one  voice  declared,  the  rising  tiain 
Left  the  black  vessel  by  the  murmuring  main. 

Shame  touch’d  Eurylochus’s  alter’d  breast. 

He  fear’d  my  threats,  and  follow’d  with  the  rest. 

“Meanwhile,  the  goddess,  with  indulgent  cares 
And  social  joys,  the  late  transform’d  repairs; 

The  bath,  the  feast,  their  fainting  soul  renews; 

Rich  in  refulgent  robes,  and  dropping  balmy  dews: 
Brightening  with  joy,  their  eager  eyes  behold 
Each  other’s  face,  and  each  his  story  told; 

Then  gushing  tears  the  narrative  confound. 

And  with  their  sobs  the  vaulted  roofs  resound. 

When  hush’d  their  passion,  thus  the  goddess  cries: 

“‘Ulysses,  taught  by  labours  to  be  wise. 

Let  this  short  memory  of  grief  suffice. 

To  me  are  known  the  various  woes  ye  bore, 

In  storms  by  sea,  in  perils  on  the  shore; 

Forget  whatever  was  in  Fortune’s  power, 

And  share  the  pleasures  of  this  genial  hour. 

Such  be  your  minds  as  ere  ye  left  your  coast, 

Or  learn’d  to  sorrow  for  a  country  lost. 

Exiles  and  wanderers  now,  where’er  ye  go. 

Too  faithful  memory  renews  your  wo; 

The  cause  removed,  habitual  griefs  remain. 

And  the  soul  saddens  by  the  use  of  pain.’ 

“  Her  kind  entreaty  moved  the  general  breast ; 
Tired  with  long  toil,  we  willing  sunk  to  rest. 

We  plied  the  banquet,  and  the  bowl  we  crown’d, 
Till  the  full  circle  of  the  year  came  round. 

But  when  the  seasons,  following  in  their  train. 
Brought  back  the  months,  the  days,  and  hours  again 


520 


530 


540 


550 


> 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  X. 


179 


As  from  a  lethargy  at  once  they  rise, 

And  urge  their  chief  with  animating  cries: 

“‘Is  this,  Ulysses,  our  inglorious  lot?  560 

And  is  the  name  of  Ithaca  forgot? 

Shall  never  the  dear  land  in  prospect  rise. 

Or  the  loved  palace  glitter  in  our  eyes?’ 

“Melting  I  heard;  yet,  till  the  sun’s  decline. 

Prolong’d  the  feast,  and  quaff’d  the  rosy  wine ; 

But  when  the  shades  came  on  at  evening  hour. 

And  all  lay  slumbering  in-the  dusky  bower; 

I  came  a  suppliant  to  fair  Circe’s  bed. 

The  tender  moment  seized,  and  thus  I  said: 

“‘Be  mindful,  goddess!  of  thy  promise  made;  570 
Must  sad  Ulysses  ever  be  delay’d? 

Around  their  lord  my  sad  companions  mourn. 

Each  breast  beats  homeward,  anxious  to  return: 

If  but  a  moment  parted  from  thy  eyes. 

Their  tears  flow  round  me,  and  my  heart  complies.’ 

“‘Go  then,’  she  cried,  ‘ah,  go!  yet  think  not  I, 

Not  Circ^,  but  the  Fates,  your  wish  deny. 

Ah,  hope  not  yet  to  breathe  thy  native  air ! 

Far  other  journey  first  demands  thy  care: 

To  tread  th’  uncomfortable  paths  beneath,  580 

And  view  the  realms  of  darkness  and  of  death. 

There  seek  the  Theban  bard,  deprived  of  sight; 

Within,  irradiate  with  prophetic  light: 

To  whom  Persephon^,  entire  and  whole. 

Gave  to  retain  th’  unseparated  soul : 

The  rest  are  forms  of  empty  ether  made: 

Impassive  semblance,  and  a  flitting  shade.’ 

“Struck  at  the  word,  my  very  heart  was  dead: 

Pensive  I  sate;  my  tears  bedew’d  the  bed; 

To  hate  the  light  and  life  my  soul  begun,  590 

And  saw  that  all  was  grief  beneath  the  sun. 

Composed  at  length,  the  gushing  tears  suppress’d. 

And  my  toss’d  limbs  now  wearied  into  rest: 

“‘How  shall  I  tread,’  I  cried,  ‘ah,  Circe!  say, 

The  dark  descent,  and  who  shall  guide  the  way? 


180 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  X. 


Can  living  eyes  behold  the  realms  below? 

What  bark  to  waft  me,  and  what  wind  to  blow  V 
‘“Thy  fated  road,’  the  magic  power  replied, 
‘Divine  Ulysses!  asks  no  mortal  guide. 

Rear  but  the  mast,  the  spacious  bed  display. 

The  northern  winds  shall  wing  thee  on  thy  way. 
Soon  shalt  thou  reach  old  Ocean’s  utmost  ends. 
Where  to  the  main  the  shelving  shore  descends; 
The  barren  trees  of  Prosperpine’s  black  woods. 
Poplars  and  willows  trembling  o’er  the  floods: 
There  fix  thy  vessel  in  the  lonely  bay. 

And  enter  there  the  kingdoms  void  of  day: 
Where  Phlegethon’s  loud  torrents,  rushing  down, 
Hiss  in  the  flaming  gulf  of  Acheron; 

And  where,  slow  rolling  from  the  Stygian  bed, 
Cocytus’  lamentable  waters  spread; 

Where  the  dark  rock  o’er  hangs  th’  infernal  lake, 
And  mingling  streams  eternal  murmurs  make. 
First  draw  thy  faulchion,  and  on  every  side 
Trench  the  black  earth  a  cubit  long  and  wide :  ' 
To  all  the  shades  around  libations  pour. 

And  o’er  th’  ingredients  strew  the  hallow’d  flour: 
New  wine  and  milk,  with  honey  temper’d,  bring. 
And  living  water  from  the  crystal  spring. 

Then  the  wan  shades  and  feeble  ghosts  implore. 
With  promised  offerings  on  thy  native  shore ; 

A  barren  cow,  the  stateliest  of  the  isle. 

And,  heap’d  with  various  wealth,  a  blazing  pile : 
These  to  the  rest;  but  to  the  seer  must  bleed 
A  sable  ram,  the  pride  of  all  thy  breed. 

These  solemn  vows  and  holy  offerings  paid 
To  all  the  phantom  nations  of  the  dead. 

Be  next  thy  care  the  sable  sheep  to  place 
Full  o’er  the  pit,  and  hellward  turn  their  face : 
But  from  th’  infernal  rite  thine  eye  withdraw. 
And  back  to  Ocean  glance  with  reverend  awe. 
Sudden  shall  skim  along  the  dusky  glades 
Thin  airy  shoals,  and  visionary  shades. 


<  .1 


610 


620 

# 


630 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  X. 


181 


Then  give  command  the  sacrifice  to  haste, 

Let  the  flay’d  victims  in  the  flames  be  cast, 

And  sacred  vows  and  mystic  song  applied 
To  grisly  Pluto  and  his  gloomy  bride. 

Wide  o’er  the  pool,  thy  faulchion  waved  around 
Shall  drive  the  spectres  from  forbidden  ground: 

The  sacred  draught  shall  all  the  dead  forbear,  640 

Till  awful  from  the  shades  arise  the  seer. 

Let  him,  oraculous,  the  end,  the  way. 

The  turns  of  all  thy  future  fate,  display. 

Thy  pilgrimage  to  come,  and  remnant  of  thy  day.’ 

“So  speaking,  from  the  ruddy  orient  shone 
The  morn,  conspicuous  on  her  golden  throne. 

The  goddess  with  a  radiant  tunic  dress’d 
My  limbs,  and  o’er  me  cast  a  silken  vest. 

Long  flowing  robes,  of  purest  white,  array 

The  nymph,  that  added  lustre  to  the  day:  650 

A  tiar  wreathed  her  head  with  many  a  fold ; 

Her  waist  was  circled  with  a  zone  of  gold. 

Forth  issuing  then,  from  place  to  place  I  flew; 

Rouse  man  by  man,  and  animate  my  crew: 

“‘Rise,  rise,  my  mates!  ’tis  Circ^  gives  command. 

Our  journey  calls  us ;  haste,  and  quit  the  land.’ 

“All  rise  and  follow,  yet  depart  not  all, 

For  Fate  decreed  one  wretched  man  to  fall. 

A  youth  there  was,  Elpenor  was  he  named, 

Not  much  for  sense,  nor  much  for  courage  famed;  660 
The  youngest  of  our  band,  a  vulgar  soul. 

Born  but  to  banquet,  and  to  drain  the  bowl. 

He,  hot  and  careless,  on  a  turret’s  height 
With  sleep  repair’d  the  long  debauch  of  night: 

The  sudden  tumult  stirr’d  him  where  he  lay. 

And  down  he  hasten’d,  but  forgot  the  way ; 

Full  headlong  from  the  roof  the  sleeper  fell. 

And  snapp’d  the  spinal  joint,  and  waked  in  hell. 

The  rest  crowd  round  me  with  an  eager  look, 

I  met  them  with  a  sigh,  and  thus  bespoke:  670 

“  ‘  Already,  friends  I  ye  think  your  toils  are  o’er. 

Your  hopes  already  touch  your  native  shore: 


182 


Alas !  far  otherwise  the  nymph  declares, 

Far  other  journey  first  demands  our  cares ; 

To  tread  th’  uncomfortable  paths  beneath, 

The  dreary  realms  of  darkness  and  of  death; 

To  seek  Tiresias’  awful  shade  below. 

And  thence  our  fortunes  and  our  fates  to  know.’ 

“My  sad  companions  heard  in  deep  despair: 

Frantic  they  tore  their  manly  growth  of  hair;  680 

To  earth  they  fell;  the  tears  began  to  rain; 

But  tears  in  mortal  miseries  are  vain. 

Sadly  they  fared  along  the  sea-beat  shore ; 

Still  heaved  their  hearts,  and  still  their  eyes  ran  o’er. 

The  ready  victims  at  our  bark  we  found. 

The  sable  ewe  and  ram  together  bound ; 

For,  swift  as  thought,  the  goddess  had  been  there. 

And  thence  had  glided,  viewless  as  the  air: 

The  paths  of  gods  what  mortal  can  survey? 

Who  eyes  their  motion?  who  shall  trace  their  way?”  690  • 


BOOK  XI. 


The  Descent  into  Hell,  and  Conversation  with  the  Shades. 

Argument. — Ulysses  continues  his  narration.  How  he  arrived  at  the  land  of 
the  Cimmerians,  and  what  ceremonies  he  performed  to  invoke  the  dead. 
The  manner  of  his  descent,  and  the  apparition  of  the  shades ;  his  conver¬ 
sation  with  Elpenor,  and  with  Tiresias,  who  informs  him,  in  a  prophetic 
manner,  of  his  fortunes  to  come.  He  meets  his  mother  Anticlea,  from 
whom  he  learns  the  state  of  his  family.  He  sees  the  shades  of  the 
ancient  heroines,  afterwards  of  the  heroes,  and  converses  in  particular 
with  Ag-amemnon  and  Achilles.  Ajax  keeps  at  a  sullen  distance,  and 
disdains  to  answer  him.  He  then  beholds  Tityus,  Tantalus,  Sysiphus, 
and  Hercules ;  till  he  is  deterred  from  further  curiosity  by  the  apparition 
of  horrid  spectres,  and  the  cries  of  the  wicked  in  torments. 

“Now  to  the  shores  we  bend,  a  mournful  train, 

Climb  the  tall  bark,  and  launch  into  the  main: 

At  once  the  mast  we  rear,  at  once  unbind 
The  spacious  sheet,  and  stretch  it  to  the  wind; 

Then  pale  and  pensive  stand,  with  cares  oppress’d. 

And  solemn  horror  saddens  every  breast. 

A  freshening  breeze  the  magic  power*  supplied. 

While  the  winged  vessel  flew  along  the  tide ; 

Our  oars  we  shipp’d:  all  day  the  swelling  sails 
Full  from  the  guiding  pilot  catch  the  gales.  10 

“Now  sunk  the  sun  from  his  aerial  height. 

And  o’er  the  shaded  billows  rush’d  the  night: 

When,  lo !  we  reach’d  old  Ocean’s  utmost  bounds, 

Where  rocks  control  his  waves  with  ever-during  mounds. 
There  in  a  lonely  land,  and  gloomy  cells. 

The  dusky  nation  of  Cimmeria  dwells; 

The  sun  ne’er  views  th’  uncomfortable  seats. 

When  radiant  he  advances,  or  retreats: 


*  Circ6. 


184 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XI. 


Unhappy  race!  whom  endless  night  invades, 

Clouds  the  dull  air,  and  wraps  them  round  in  shades.  20  ^ 

“The  ship  we  moor  on  these  obscure  abodes: 

Disbark  the  sheep,  an  offering  to  the  gods ;  .  * 

And,  hellward  bending,  o’er  the  beach  descry  , 

The  dolesome  passage  to  th’  infernal  sky.  | 

The  victims,  vow’d  to  each  Tartarean  power, 

Eurylochus  and  Perimedd  bore. 

“Here  open’d  hell;  all  hell  I  here  implored,  '  > 

And  from  the  scabbard  drew  the  shining  sword:  | 

And,  trenching  the  black  earth  on  every  side, 

A  cavern  form’d,  a  cubit  long  and  wide.  30 

New  wine,  with  honey-temper’d  milk,  we  bring. 

Then  living  waters  from  the  crystal  spring: 

O’er  these  was  strew’d  the  consecrated  flour, 

And  on  the  surface  shone  the  holy  store.  , 

“Now  the  wan  shades  we  hail,  th’  infernal  gods, 

To  speed  our  course,  and  waft  us  o’er  the  floods: 

“‘So  shall  a  barren  heifer  from  the  stall  .  i 

Beneath  the  knife  upon  your  altars  fall;  J 

So  in  our  palace,  at  our  safe  return. 

Rich  with  unnumber’d  gifts  the  pile  shall  burn;  40  :  | 

So  shall  a  ram,  the  largest  of  the  breed,  i  | 

Black  as  these  regions,  to  Tiresias  bleed.’  | 

“Thus  solemn  rites  and  holy  vows  we  paid  i  | 

To  all  the  phantom  nations  of  the  dead.  :  i  ^ 

Then  died  the  sheep:  a  purple  torrent  flow’d,  j  | 

And  all  the  caverns  smoked  with  streaming  blood.  ( | 

When,  lol  appear’d  along  the  dusky  coasts,  >/  § 

Thin,  airy  shoals  of  visionary  ghosts:  ,  r.f 

Fair,  pensive  youths,  and  soft  enamour’d  maids; 

And  wither’d  elders,  pale  and  wrinkled  shades;  50 

Ghastly  with  wounds,  the  forms  of  warriors  slain  | 

Stalk’d  with  majestic  port,  a  martial  train:  i 

These  and  a  thousand  more  swarm’d  o’er  the  ground. 

And  all  the  dire  assembly  shriek’d  around. 

Astonish’d  at  the  sight,  aghast  I  stood,  ^  d| 

And  a  cold  fear  ran  shivering  through  my  blood;  ^  ,.v| 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XI. 


185 


Straight  I  command  the  sacrifice  to  haste, 

Straight  the  flay’d  victims  to  the  flames  are  cast, 

And  mutter’d  vows,  and  mystic  song  applied 

To  grisly  Pluto  and  his  gloomy  bride.  60 

Now  swift  I  waved  my  faulchion  o’er  the  blood; 

Back  started  the  pale  throngs,  and  trembling  stood. 
Round  the  black  trench  the  gore  untasted  flows. 

Till  awful  from  the  shades  Tiresias  rose. 

“There  wandering  through  the  gloom  I  first  survey’d. 
New  to  the  realms  of  death,  Elpenor’s  shade: 

His  cold  remains,  all  naked  to  the  sky. 

On  distant  shores  unwept,  unburied,  lie. 

Sad  at  the  sight  I  stand,  deep  fix’d  in  wo; 

And  ere  I  spoke,  the  tears  began  to  flow :  70 

“‘Oh  say,  what  angry  power  Elpenor  led 
To  glide  in  shades,  and  wander  with  the  dead? 

How  could  thy  soul,  by  realms  and  seas  disjoin’d, 

Outfly  the  nimble  sail,  and  leave  the  lagging  wind?’ 

“The  ghost  replied:  ‘To  hell  my  doom  I  owe. 

Demons  accursed,  dire  ministers  of  wo ! 

My  feet,  through  wine  unfaithful  to  their  weight, 

Betray’d  me  tumbling  from  a  towery  height; 

Staggering  I  reel’d,  and,  as  I  reel’d,  I  fell, 

Lux’d  the  neck-joint — my  soul  descends  to  hell.  80 

But  lend  me  aid,  I  now  conjure  thee  lend. 

By  the  soft  tie  and  sacred  name  of  friend ! 

By  thy  fond  consort !  by  thy  father’s  cares ! 

By  loved  Telemachus’s  blooming  years! 

For  well  I  know  that  soon  the  heavenly  powers 
Will  give  thee  back  to  day,  and  Circe’s  shores ; 

There  pious  on  my  cold  remains  attend. 

There  call  to  mind  thy  poor  departed  friend! 

The  tribute  of  a  tear  is  all  I  crave. 

And  the  possession  of  a  peaceful  grave.  90 

1  But  if,  unheard,  in  vain  compassion  plead, 

1  Revere  the  gods,  the  gods  avenge  the  dead ! 

A  tomb  along  the  watery  margin  raise. 

The  tomb  with  manly  arms  and  trophies  grace, 
i  To  show  posterity  Elpenor  was. 


186 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XL 


There  high  in  air,  memorial  of  my  name, 

Fix  the  smooth  oar,  and  bid  me  live  to  fame. 

“  To  whom,  with  tears :  ‘  These  rites,  oh,  mournful  shade ! 
Due  to  thy  ghost,  shall  to  thy  ghost  be  paid. 

“Still  as  I  spoke,  the  phantom  seem’d  to  moan,  100 
Tear  follow’d  tear,  and  groan  succeeded  groan. 

But,  as  my  waving  sword  the  blood  surrounds. 

The  shade  withdrew,  and  mutter’d  empty  sounds. 

“There,  as  the  wondrous  visions  I  survey’d, 

All  pale  ascends  my  royal  mother’s  shade: 

A  queen,  to  Troy  she  saw  our  legions  pass; 

Now  a  thin  form  is  all  Anticlea  was! 


Struck  at  the  sight,  I  melt  with  filial  wo. 

And  down  my  cheek  the  pious  sorrows  flow: 

Yet  as  I  shook  my  faulchion  o’er  the  blood. 
Regardless  of  her  son  the  parent  stood. 

“When,  lol  the  mighty  Theban  I  behold; 

To  guide  his  steps  he  bore  a  staff  of  gold: 

Awful  he  trod  1  majestic  was  his  look  1 
And  from  his  holy  lips  these  accents  broke : 

“‘W^hy,  mortal,  wanderest  thou  from  cheerful  day, 
To  tread  the  downward,  melancholy  way  ? 

What  angry  gods  to  these  dark  regions  led 
Thee  yet  alive,  companion  of  the  dead? 

But  sheath  thy  poniard,  while  my  tongue  relates 
Heaven’s  steadfast  purpose,  and  thy  future  fates.’ 

“While  yet  he  spoke,  the  prophet  I  obey’d. 

And  in  the  scabbard  plunged  the  glittering  blade. 
Eager  he  quaff’d  the  gore,  and  then  express’d 
Dark  things  to  come,  the  counsels  of  his  breast: 

“‘Weary  of  light,  Ulysses  here  explores 
A  prosperous  voyage  to  his  native  shores; 

But  know:  by  me  unerring  Fates  disclose’ 

New  trains  of  danger,  and  new  scenes  of  woes; 

I  see — I  see — thy  bark  by  Neptune  toss’d. 

For  injured  Cyclops,  and  his  eye-ball  lost  1 
Yet  to  thy  woes  the  gods  decree  an  end. 

If  Heaven  thou  please ;  and  how  to  please  attend  1 


110 


120 


130 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XI. 


187 


Where  on  Trinacrian  rocks  the  ocean  roars, 
Graze  numerous  herds  along  the  verdant  shores: 
Though  hunger  press,  yet  fly  the  dangerous  prey. 
The  herds  are  sacred  to  the  god  of  day. 

Who  all  surveys  with  his  extensive  eye — 

Above,  below,  on  earth,  and  in  the  sky ! 

Rob  not  the  god ;  and  so  propitious  gales 
Attend  thy  voyage,  and  impel  thy  sails: 

But,  if  his  herds  ye  seize,  beneath  the  waves 
I  see  thy  friends  overwhelm'd  in  liquid  graves! 
The  direful  wreck  Ulysses  scarce  survives! 
Ulysses  at  his  country  scarce  arrives ! 

Strangers  thy  guides !  nor  there  thy  labours  end : 
New  foes  arise,  domestic  ills  attend! 

There  foul  adulterers  to  thy  bride  resort. 

And  lordly  gluttons  riot  in  thy  court. 

But  vengeance  hastes  amain:  These  eyes  behold 
The  deathful  scene,  princes  on  princes  roll’d ! 
That  done,  a  people  far  from  sea  explore. 

Who  ne’er  knew  salt,  or  heard  the  billows  roar. 


Or  saw  gay  vessels  stem  the  watery  plain, 

A  painted  wonder  flying  on  the  main. 

Bear  on  thy  back  an  oar:  with  strange  amaze 
A  shepherd  meeting  thee,  the  oar  surveys. 

And  names  a  van:  there  fix  it  on  the  plain. 

To  calm  the  god  that  holds  the  watery  reign; 

A  threefold  offering  to  his  altar  bring, 

A  bull,  a  ram,  a  boar ;  and  hail  the  ocean-king. 

But,  home  return’d,  to  each  ethereal  power 
Slay  the  due  victim  in  the  genial  hour: 

So  peaceful  shalt  thou  end  thy  blissful  days. 

And  steal  thyself  from  life  by  slow  decays; 

Unknown  to  pain,  in  age  resign  thy  breath. 

When  late  stern  Neptune  points  the  shaft  with  death: 


To  the  dark  grave  retiring  as  to  rest. 

Thy  people  blessing,  by  thy  people  bless’d ! 
Unerring  truths,  oh  man!  my  lips  relate; 
This  is  thy  life  to  come,  and  this  is  fate.’ 


188 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XI. 


*‘To  whom,  unmoved:  ‘If  this  the  gods  prepare,  ” 
What  Heaven  ordains,  the  wise  with  courage  bear.  •  J:, 
But  say,  why  yonder  on  the  lonely  strands, 

Unmindful  of  her  son,  Anticlea  stands?  > 

Why  to  the  ground  she  bends  her  downcast  eye? 

Why  is  she  silent  while  her  son  is  nigh?  '  "o 

The  latent  cause,  oh  sacred  seer,  reveal !’  '  *  T 

“‘Nor  this,’  replies  the  seer,  ‘will  I  conceal. 

Know,  to  the  spectres  that  thy  beverage  taste,  180 

The  scenes  of  life  recur,  and  actions  past:  .,r 

They,  seal’d  with  truth,  return  the  sure  reply ;  ' 

The  rest,  repel’d,  a  train  oblivious  fly.’  Y 

“The  phantom-prophet  ceased,  and  sunk  from  sight 
To  the  black  palace  of  eternal  night. 

“Still  in  the  dark  abodes  of  death  I  stood, 

When  near  Anticlea  moved,  and  drank  the  blood.  ' 
Straight  all  the  mother  in  her  soul  awakes, 

And,  owning  her  Ulysses,  thus  she  speaks: 

“‘Com’st  thou,  my  son,  alive,  to  realms  beneath,  190' 
The  dolesome  realms  of  darkness  and  of  death?  ,'"1^ 
Com’st  thou  alive  from  pure,  ethereal  day  ?  '  ^ 

Dire  is  the  region,  dismal  is  the  way;  ^ 

Here  lakes  profound,  there  floods  oppose  their  waves,  ,  ^ 
There  the  wide  sea  with  all  his  billows  raves ! 

Or  (since  to  dust  proud  Troy  submits  her  towers) 

Com’st  thou  a  wanderer  from  the  Phrygian  shores? 

Or  say,  since  honour  call’d  thee  to  the  field. 

Hast  thou  thy  Ithaca,  thy  bride,  beheld?’ 

“Source  of  my  life,’  I  cried,  ‘from  earth  I  fly 
To  seek  Tiresias  in  the  nether  sky. 

To  learn  my  doom;  for,  toss’d  from  wo  to  wo, 

In  every  land  Ulysses  finds  a  foe: 

Nor  have  these  eyes  beheld  my  native  shores, 

Since  in  the  dust  proud  Troy  submits  her  towers. 

But,  when  thy  soul  from  her  sweet  mansion  fled, 

Say,  what  distemper  gave  thee  to  the  dead? 

Has  life’s  fair  lamp  declined  by  slow  decays, 

Or  swift  expired  it  in  a  sudden  blaze? 


J] 


200 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XI. 


189 


Say,  if  my  sire,  good  old  Laertes,  lives?  210 

If  yet  Telemachus,  my  son,  survives? 

Say,  by  his  rule  is  my  dominion  a^ved. 

Or  crush’d  by  traitors  with  an  iron  rod? 

Say,  if  my  spouse  maintains  her  royal  trust; 

Though  tempted,  chaste,  and  obstinately  just? 

Or,  if  no  more  her  absent  lord  she  wails. 

But  the  false  woman  o’er  the  wife  prevails.’ 

“  Thus  I,  and  thus  the  parent-shade  returns : 

“‘Thee,  ever  thee,  thy  faithful  consort  mourns: 

Whether  the  night  descends  or  day  prevails,  >  220 

Thee  she  by  night,  and  thee  by  day  bewails. 

Thee  in  Telemachus  thy  realm  obeys; 

In  sacred  groves  celestial  rites  he  pays. 

And  shares  the  banquet  in  superior  state. 

Graced  with  such  honours  as  become  the  great. 

Thy  sire  in  solitude  foments  his  care : 

The  court  is  joyless,  for  thou  art  not  there ! 

No  costly  carpets  raise  his  hoary  head. 

No  rich  embroidery  shines  to  grace  his  bed; 

Ev’n  when  keen  winter  freezes  in  the  skies,  230 

Rank’d  with  his  slaves,  on  earth  the  monarch  lies : 

Deep  are  his  sighs,  his  visage  pale,  his  dress 
The  garb  of  wo  and  habit  of  distress. 

And  when  the  autumn  takes  his  annual  round. 

The  leafy  honours  scattering  on  the  ground ; 

Regardless  of  his  years,  abroad  he  lies. 

His  bed  the  leaves,  his  canopy  the  skies. 

Thus  cares  on  cares  his  painful  days  consume. 

And  bow  his  age  with  sorrow  to  the  tomb ! — 

For  thee,  my  son,  I  wept  my  life  away ;  240 

For  thee  through  hell’s  eternal  dungeons  stray ; 

Nor  came  my  fate  by  lingering  pains  and  slow. 

Nor  bent  the  silver-shafted  queen  her  bow ; 

No  dire  disease  bereaved  me  of  my  breath; 

'  Thou,  thou,  my  son,  wert  my  disease  and  death : 

Unkindly  with  my  love  my  son  conspired, 

1  For  thee  I  lived,  for  absent  thee  expired.’ 


190 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XI. 


“Thrice  in  my  arms  I  strove  her  shade  to  bind, 

Thrice  through  my  arms  she  slipp’d  like  empty  wind, 

Or  dreams,  the  vain  illusions  of  the  mind.  250 

Wild  with  despair,  I  shed  a  copious  tide 
Of  flowing  tears,  and  thus  with  sighs  replied : 

“  ‘  Fliest  thou,  loved  shade,  while  I  thus  fondly  mourn ! 
Turn  to  my  arms,  to  my  embraces  turn ! 

Is  it,  ye  powers  that  smile  at  human  harms ! 

Too  great  a  bliss  to  weep  within  her  arms ! 

Or  has  hell’s  queen  an  empty  image  sent. 

That  wretched  I  might  ev’n  my  joys  lament?’ 

“  ‘  Oh,  son  of  wo !’  the  pensive  shade  rejoin’d, 

‘Oh,  most  inured  to  grief  of  all  mankind!  260 

’Tis  not  the  queen  of  hell  who  thee  deceives; 

All,  all  are  such,  when  life  the  body  leaves : 

No  more  the  substance  of  the  man  remains. 

Nor  bounds  the  blood  along  the  purple  veins: 

These  the  funereal  flames  in  atoms  bear, 

To  wander  with  the  wind  in  empty  air: 

While  th’  impassive  soul  reluctant  flies. 

Like  a  vain  dream  to  these  infernal  skies. 

But  from  the  dark  dominions  speed  thy  way. 

And  climb  the  steep  ascent  to  upper  day,  270 

To  thy  chaste  bride  the  wondrous  story  tell. 

The  woes,  the  horrors,  and  the  laws  of  hell.’ 

“Thus  while  she  spoke,  in  swarms  hell’s  empress  brings 
Daughters  and  wives  of  heroes  and  of  kings; 

Thick,  and  more  thick  they  gather  round  the  blood, 

Ghost  throng’d  on  ghost  (a  dire  assembly)  stood  1 
Dauntless  my  sword  I  seize:  the  airy  crew. 

Swift  as  it  flash’d  along  the  gloom,  withdrew; 

Then  shade  to  shade  in  mutual  forms  succeeds. 

Her  race  recounts,  and  their  illustrious  deeds.  280 

“Tyro  began,  whom  great  Salmoneus  bred. 

The  royal  partner  of  famed  Cretheus’  bed. 

For  fair  Enipeus,  as  from  fruitful  urns 
He  pours  his  watery  store,  the  virgin  burns : 

Smooth  flows  the  gentle  stream  with  wanton  pride. 

And  in  soft  mazes  rolls  a  silver  tide. 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XI. 


191 


As  on  his  banks  the  maid  enamour’d  roves, 

The  monarch  of  the  deep  beholds  and  loves; 

In  her  Enipeus’  form  and  borrow’d  charms, 

The  amorous  god  descends  into  her  arms:  290 

Around,  a  spacious  arch  of  waves  he  throws, 

And  high  in  air  the  liquid  mountain  rose : 

Thus,  in  surrounding  floods  conceal’d,  he  proves 
The  pleasing  transport,  and  completes  his  loves. 

Then,  softly  sighing,  he  the  fair  address’d. 

And,  as  he  spoke,  her  tender  hand  he  press’d : 

“‘Hail,  happy  nymph!  no  vulgar  births  are  owed 
To  the  prolific  raptures  of  a  god: 

Lo  I  when  nine  times  the  moon  renews  her  horn, 

Two  brother-heroes  shall  from  thee  be  born:  300 

Thy  early  care  the  future  worthies  claim. 

To  point  them  to  the  arduous  paths  of  fame ; 

But  in  thy  breast  th’  important  truth  conceal. 

Nor  dare  the  secret  of  a  god  reveal: 

For  know,  thou  Neptune  view’st!  and  at  my  nod 
Earth  trembles,  and  the  waves  confess  their  god.’ 

“  He  added  not,  but  mounting,  spurn’d  the  plain. 

Then  plunged  into  the  chambers  of  the  main. 

“Now  in  the  time’s  full  process  forth  she  brings 
Jove’s  dread  vicegerents  in  two  future  kings;  310 

O’er  proud  lolchos  Pelias  stretch’d  his  reign. 

And  godlike  Neleus  ruled  the  Pylian  plain: 

Then,  fruitful,  to  her  Cretheus’  royal  bed 
She  gallant  Pheres  and  famed  iEson  bred: 

From  the  same  fountain  Amythaon  rose. 

Pleased  with  the  din  of  war,  and  noble  shouts  of  foes. 

“  There  moved  Antiop^,  with  haughty  charms. 

Who  bless’d  th’  almighty  Thunderer  in  her  arms : 

Hence  sprung  Amphion,  hence  brave  Zethus  came, 
Founders  of  Thebes,  and  men  of  mighty  name;  320 
Though  bold  in  open  field,  they  yet  surround 
The  town  with  walls,  and  mound  inject  on  mound ; 

Here  ramparts  stood,  there  towers  rose  high  in  air. 

And  here  through  seven  wide  portals  rush’d  the  war. 


192 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XI. 


“  There  with  soft  step  the  fair  Alcmena  trod, 

Who  bore  Alcides  to  the  thundering  god: 

And  Megara,  who  charm’d  the  son  of  Jove, 

And  soften’d  his  stern  soul  to  tender  love. 

“Sullen  and  sour,  with  discontented  mien, 

Jocasta  frown’d,  th’  incestuous  Theban  queen;  330 

With  her  own  son  she  join’d  in  nuptial  bands. 

Though  father’s  blood  imbrued  his  murderous  hands:  ' 
The  gods  and  men  the  dire  offence  detest,  * 

The  gods  with  all  their  furies  rend  his  breast:  ^ 

In  lofty  Thebes  he  wore  th’  imperial  crown, 

A  pompous  wretch,  accursed  upon  a  throne. 

The  wife,  self-murder’d,  from  a  beam  depends. 

And  her  foul  soul  to  blackest  hell  descends:  * 

Thence  to  her  son  the  choicest  plagues  she  brings, 

And  his  fiends  haunt  him  with  a  thousand  stings.  340 
“  And  now  the  beauteous  Chloris  I  descry, 

A  lovely  shade,  Amphion’s  youngest  joy ! 

With  gifts  unnumber’d,  Neleus  sought  her  arms. 

Nor  paid  too  dearly  for  unequal’d  charms; 

Great  in  Orchomenus,  in  Pylos  great; 

He  sway’d  the  sceptre  with  imperial  state.  ' 

Three  gallant  sons  the  joyful  monarch  told. 

Sage  Nestor,  Periclymenus  the  bold. 

And  Chromius  last:  but  of  the  softer  race,  ‘ 

One  nymph  alone,  a  miracle  of  grace.  350 

Kings  on  their  thrones  for  lovely  Pero  burn ; 

The  sire  denies,  and  kings  rejected  mourn. 

To  him  alone  the  beauteous  prize  he  yields 
Whose  arm  should  ravish  from  Phylacian  fields 
The  herds  of  Iphiclus,  detain’d  in  wrong; 

Wild,  furious  herds,  unconquerably  strong! 

This  dares  a  seer,  but  naught  the  seer  prevails; 

In  beauty’s  cause  illustriously  he  fails. 

Twelve  moons  the  foe  the  captive  youth  detains 
In  painful  dungeons,  and  coercive  chains; 

The  foe  at  last,  from  durance  where  he  lay, 

His  art  revering,  gave  him  back  to  day; 


3G0 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XI. 


193 


Won  by  prophetic  knowledge  to  fulfil 
The  steadfast  purpose  of  th’  Almighty  will. 

“With  graceful  port  advancing,  now  I  spied 
Leda  the  fair,  the  godlike  Tyndar’s  bride: 

Hence  Pollux  sprung,  who  wields  with  furious  sway 
The  deathful  gauntlet,  matchless  in  the  fray; 

And  Castor,  glorious  on  th’  embattled  plain, 

Curbs  the  proud  steed,  reluctant  to  the  rein:  870 

By  turns  they  visit  this  ethereal  sky. 

And  live  alternate,  and  alternate  die: 

In  hell  beneath,  on  earth,  in  heaven  above. 

Reign  the  twin-gods,  the  favourite  sons  of  Jove. 

“There  Ephimedia  trod  the  gloomy  plain. 

Who  charm’d  the  monarch  of  the  boundless  main: 

Hence  Ephialtes,  hence  stern  Otus  sprung. 

More  fierce  than  giants,  more  than  giants  strong: 

The  earth,  o’erburden’d,  groan’d  beneath  their  weight. 
None  but  Orion  e’er  surpass’d  their  height:  380 

The  wondrous  youths  had  scarce  nine  winters  told, 

When  high  in  air,  tremendous  to  behold, 

Nine  ells  aloft  they  rear’d  their  towering  head. 

And  full  nine  cubits  broad  their  shoulders  spread. 

Proud  of  their  strength  and  more  than  mortal  size, 

The  gods  they  challenge,  and  affect  the  skies : 

Heaved  on  Olympus  tottering  Ossa  stood ; 

On  Ossa,  Pelion  nods  with  all  his  wood. 

Such  were  they  youths !  had  they  to  manhood  grown, 
Almighty  Jove  had  trembled  on  his  throne:  390 

But,  ere  the  harvest  of  the  beard  began 
To  bristle  on  the  chin,  and  promise  man. 

His  shafts  Apollo  aim’d;  at  once  they  found, 

And  stretch’d  the  giant  monsters  o’er  the  ground. 

“There  mournful  Phaedra  with  sad  Procris  moves. 

Both  beauteous  shades,  both  hapless  in  their  loves ; 

And  near  them  walk’d,  with  solemn  pace  and  slow. 

Sad  Ariadn4,  partner  of  their  wo: 

The  royal  Minos  Ariadn6  bred. 

She  Theseus  loved,  from  Crete  with  Theseus  fled: 

9  N 


400 


194 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XI. 


Swift  to  the  Dian  isle  the  hero  flies, 

And  tow’rds  his  Athens  bears  the  lovely  prize; 

There  Bacchus  with  fierce  rage  Diana  fires, 

The  goddess  aims  her  shaft,  the  nymph  expires. 

“There  Clymen^  and  Mera  I  behold, 

There  Eriphyl^  weeps,  who  loosely  sold 
Her  lord,  her  honour,  for  the  lust  of  gold. 

But  should  I  all  recount,  the  night  would  fail. 

Unequal  to  the  melancholy  tale; 

And  all-composing  rest  my  nature  craves,  410 

Here  in  the  court,  or  yonder  on  the  waves ; 

In  you  I  trust,  and  in  the  heavenly  powers. 

To  land  Ulysses  on  his  native  shores.” 

He  ceased ;  but  left  so  charming  on  their  ear 
His  voice,  that,  listening  still,  they  seem’d  to  hear. 

Till  rising  up,  Aretd  silence  broke, 

Stretch’d  out  her  snowy  hand,  and  thus  she  spoke: 

“What  wondrous  man  Heaven  sends  us  in  our  guest! 
Through  all  his  woes  the  hero  shines  confess’d ; 

Hif;  comely  port,  his  ample  frame,  express  420 

A  manly  air,  majestic  in  distress. 

He,  as  my  guest,  is  my  peculiar  care: 

You  share  the  pleasure,  then  in  bounty  share; 

To  worth  in  misery  a  reverence  pay. 

And  with  a  generous  hand  reward  his  stay ; 

For  since  kind  Heaven  with  wealth  our  realm  has  bless’d. 
Give  it  to  Heaven  by  aiding  the  distress’d. 

Then  sage  Echeneus,  whose  grave,  reverend  brow 
The  hand  of  time  had  silver’d  o’er  with  snow, 

Mature  in  wisdom, rose:  “Your  words,”  he  cries,  430 
“Demand  obedience,  for  your  words  are  wise. 

But  let  our  king  direct  the  glorious  way 
To  generous  acts:  our  part  is  to  obey.” 

“While  life  informs  these  limbs,”  the  king  replied, 
“Well  to  deserve,  be  all  my  cares  employ’d: 

But  here  this  night  the  royal  guest  detain. 

Till  the  sun  flames  along  th’  ethereal  plain. 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XI. 


195 


Be  it  my  task  to  send  with  ample  stores 
The  stranger  from  our  hospitable  shores: 

Tread  you  my  steps !  ’Tis  mine  to  lead  the  race,  440 
The  first  in  glory,  as  the  first  in  place.” 

To  whom  the  prince:  “This  night  with  joy  I  stay: 

Oh,  monarch,  great  in  virtue  as  in  sway ! 

If  thou  the  circling  year  my  stay  control, 

To  raise  a  bounty  noble  as  thy  soul ; 

The  circling  year  I  wait,  with  ampler  stores 
And  fitter  pomp  to  hail  my  native  shores : 

Then  by  my  realms  due  homage  would  be  paid ! 

For  wealthy  kings  are  loyally  obey’d !” 

“Oh  king!  for  such  thou  art,  and  sure  thy  blood  450 
Through  veins”  (he  cried)  “of  royal  fathers  flow’d; 

Unlike  those  vagrants  who  on  falsehood  live, 

Skill’d  in  smooth  tales,  and  artful  to  deceive: 

Thy  better  soul  abhors  the  liar’s  part. 

Wise  is  thy  voice,  and  noble  is  thy  heart. 

Thy  words  like  music  every  breast  control. 

Steal  through  the  ear,  and  win  upon  the  soul; 

Soft  as  some  song  divine,  thy  story  flows, 

Nor  better  could  the  Muse  recount  thy  woes. 

“But  say,  upon  the  dark  and  dismal  coast,  460 

Saw’st  thou  the  worthies  of  the  Grecian  host  ? 

The  godlike  leaders  who,  in  battle  slain. 

Fell  before  Troy,  and  nobly  press’d  the  plain  ?. 

And,  lo  I  a  length,  of  night  behind  remains. 

The  evening  stars  still  mount  th’  ethereal  plains* 

Thy  tale  with  raptures  I'  could  hear  thee  tell. 

Thy  woes  on  earth,  the  wondrous  scenes  in  hell, 

Till  in  the  vault  of  heaven  the* stars  decay. 

And  the  sky  reddens  with  the  rising  day.” 

“Oh,  worthy  of  the  power  the  gods  assign’d,’-’  470 
Ulysses  thus  replies^  “a  king  in  mind  I » 

Since  yet  the  early  hour  of  night  allows 
Time  for  discourse,  and  time  for  soft  repose. 

If  scenes  of  misery  can  entertain. 

Woes  I  unfold,  of  woes  a  dismal  train. 


196 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XI. 


Prepare  to  hear  of  murder  and  of  blood: 

Of  godlike  heroes  who  uninjured  stood 
Amidst  a  war  of  spears  in  foreign  lands, 

Yet  bled  at  home,  and  bled  by  female  hands. 

“Now  summon’d  Proserpine  to  hell’s  black  hall  480 
The  heroine  shades;  they  vanish’d  at  her  call. 

When,  lo!  advanced  thd'forms  of  heroes  slain 
By  stern  iEgysthus,  a  majestic  train; 

And,  high  above  the  rest,  Atrides  press’d  the  plain. 

He  quaff’d  the  gore ;  and  straight  his  soldier  knew. 

And  from  his  eyes  pour’d  down  the  tender  dew ; 

His  arms  he  stretch’d ;  his  arms  the  touch  deceive. 

Nor  in  the  fond  embrace,  embraces  give: 

His  substance  vanish’d,  and  his  strength  decay’d. 

Now  all  Atrides  is  an  empty  shade.  490 

“Moved  at  the  sight,  I  for  a  space  resign’d 
To  soft  affliction  all  my  manly  mind; 

At  last  with  tears:  ‘Oh,  what  relentless  doom. 

Imperial  phantom,  bow’d  thee  to  the  tomb? 

Say,  while  the  sea,  and  while  the  tempest  raves. 

Has  Fate  oppress’d  thee  in  the  roaring  waves, 

Or  nobly  seized  thee  in  the  dire  alarms 
Of  war  and  slaughter,  and  the  clash  of  arms !’ 

“The  ghost  returns:  ‘Oh,  chief  of  human  kind 
For  active  courage  and  a  patient  mind !  500 

Nor  while  the  sea,  nor  while  the  tempest  raves. 

Has  Fate  oppress’d  me  on  the  roaring  waves! 

Nor  nobly  seized  me  in  the  dire  alarms 
Of  war  and  slaughter,  and  the  clash  of  arms. 

Stabb’d  by  a  murderous  hand,  Atrides  died ; 

A  foul  adulterer,  and  a  faithless  bride; 

Ev’n  in  my  mirth,  and  at  the  friendly  feast, 

O’er  the  full  bowl,  the  traitor  stabb’d  his  guest ; 

Thus  by  the  gory  arm  of  slaughter  falls 

The  stately  ox,  and  bleeds  within  the  stalls.  510 

But  not  with  me  the  direful  murder  ends. 

These,  these  expired!  their  crime,  they  were  my  friends: 
Thick  as  the  boars,  which  some  luxurious  lord 
Kills  for  the  feast,  to  crown  the  nuptial  board. 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XI. 


197 


When  war  has  thunder’d  with  its  loudest  storms, 

Death  thou  hast  seen  in  all  her  ghastly  forms ;  . 

In  duel  met  her  on  the  listed  ground, 

When  hand  to  hand  they  wound  returned  for  wound ; 

But  never  have  thy  eyes  astonish’d  view’d 

So  vile  a  deed,  so  dire  a  scene  of  blood.  520 

Ev’n  in  the  flow  of  joy,  when  now  the  bowl 

Glows  in  our  veins,  and  opens  every  soul. 

We  groan,  we  faint;  with  blood  the  dome  is  dyed. 

And  o’er  the  pavement  floats  the  dreadful  tide: 

Her  breast  all  gore,  with  lamentable  cries. 

The  bleeding,  innocent  Cassandra  dies! 

Then,  though  pale  death  froze  cold  in  every  vein. 

My  sword  I  strive  to  wield,  but  strive  in  vain: 

Nor  did  my  traitress  wife  these  eyelids  close. 

Or  decently  in  death  my  limbs  compose.  530 

Oh,  woman,  woman  1  when  to  ill  thy  mind  _ 

Is  bent,  all  hell  contains  no  fouler  fiend : 

And  such  was  mine!  who  basely  plunged  her  sword 
Through  the  fond  bosom  where  she  reign’d  adored ! 

Alas !  I  hoped,  the  toils  of  war  o’ercome. 

To  meet  soft  quiet  and  repose  at  home: 

Delusive  hope ! — Oh,  wife !  thy  deeds  disgrace 
The  perjured  sex,  and  blacken  all  the  race; 

And  should  posterity  one  virtuous  find. 

Name  Clytemnestra,  they  will  curse  the  kind.’  540 

“‘Oh,  injured  shade!’  I  cried,  ‘what  mighty  woes 
To  thy  imperial  race  from  woman  rose ! 

By  woman  here  thou  tread’ st  this  mournful  strand. 

And  Greece  by  woman  lies  a  desert  land.’ 

“‘Warn’d  by  my  ills,  beware!’  the  shade  replies, 

‘Nor  trust  the  sex  that  is  so  rarely  wise; 

When  earnest  to  explore  thy  secret  breast. 

Unfold  some  trifle,  but  conceal  the  rest. 

But  in  thy  consort  cease  to  fear  a  foe. 

For  thee  she  feels  sincerity  of  wo: 

When  Troy  first  bled  beneath  the  Grecian  arms. 

She  shone  unrival’d  with  a  blaze  of  charms; 


550 


198 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XI. 


Thy  infant  son  her  fragrant  bosom  press’d, 

Hung  at  her  knee,  or  wanton’d  at  her  breast: 

But  now  the  years  a  numerous  train  have  ran; 

The  blooming  boy  is  ripened  into  man : 

Thy  eyes  shall  see  him  burn  with  noble  fire. 

The  sire  shall  bless  his  son,  the  son  his  sire: 

But  my  Orestes  never  met  these  eyes, 

Without  one  look  the  murder’d  father  dies;  5b0 

Then  from  a  wretched  friend  this  wisdom  learn, 

Ev’n  to  thy  queen  disguised,  unknown,  return ; 

For  since  of  womankind  so  few  are  just. 

Think  all  are  false,  nor  ev’n  the  faithful  trust. 

But  say,  resides  my  son  in  royal  port, 

In  rich  Orchomenos,  or  Sparta’s  court? 

Or  say  in  Pyle?  for  yet  he  views  the  light, 

Nor  glides  a  phantom  through  the  realms  of  night.’ 

“Then  I:  ‘Thy  suit  is  vain,  nor  can  I  say 
If  yet  he  breathes  in  realms  of  cheerful  day;  570 

Or  pale  or  wan  beholds  these  nether  skies: 

Truth  I  revere,  for  wisdom  never  lies.’ 

“  Thus  in  a  tide  of  tears  our  sorrows  flow. 

And  add  new  horror  to  the  realms  of  wo; 

Till  side  by  side  along  the  dreary  coast 
Advanced  Achilles’  and  Patroclus’  ghost, 

A  friendly  pair !  near  these  the  Pylian*  stray’d. 

And  towering  Ajax,  an  illustrious  shade ! 

W ar  was  his  joy,  and  pleased  with  loud  alarms. 

None  but  Pelides  brighter  shone  in  arms.  580 

Through  the  thick  gloom  his  friend  Achilles  knew. 

And,  as  he  speaks,  the  tears  descend  in  dew : 

“‘Com’st  thou  alive  to  view  the  Stygian  bounds. 

Where  the  wan  spectres  walk  eternal  rounds : 

Nor  fear’st  the  dark  and  dismal  waste  to  tread. 

Throng’d  with  pale  ghosts,  familiar  with  the  dead?’ 

“To  whom,  with  sighs:  ‘I  pass  these  dreadful  gates 
To  seek  the  Theban,  and  consult  the  Fates: 


*  Antilochus. 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XL 


199 


For  still,  distress’d,  I  rove  from  coast  to  coast. 

Lost  to  my  friends,  and  to  my  country  lost. 

But  sure  the  eye  of  Time  beholds  no  name 
So  bless’d  as  thine  in  all  the  rolls  of  fame: 

Alive  we  hail’d  thee  with  our  guardian  gods, 

And  dead,  thou  rul’st  a  king  in  these  abodes.’ 

“‘Talk  not  of  ruling  in  this  dolorous  gloom. 

Nor  think  vain  words,’  he  cried,  ‘can  ease  my  doom. 
Rather  I  chose  laboriously  to  bear 
A  weight  of  woes,  and  breathe  the  vital  air, 

A  slave  to  some  poor  hind  that  toils  for  bread. 

Than  reign  the  sceptred  monarch  of  the  dead. 

But  say,  if  in  my  steps  my  son  proceeds. 

And  emulates  his  godlike  father’s  deeds? 

If  at  the  clash  of  arms,  and  shout  of  foes. 

Swells  his  bold  heart,  his  bosom  nobly  glows? 

Say,  if  my  sire,  the  reverend  Peleus,  reigns, 

Great  in  his  Phthia,  and  his  throne  maintains ; 

Or,  weak  and  old,  my  youthful  arm  demands, 

To  fix  the  sceptre  steadfast  in  his  hands? 

Oh,  might  the  lamp  of  life  rekindled  burn. 

And  death  release  me  from  the  silent  urn! 

This  arm,  that  thundered  o’er  the  Phrygian  plain,  ^ 
And  swell’d  the  ground  with  mountains  of  the  slain. 
Should  vindicate  my  injured  father’s  fame. 

Crush  the  proud  rebel,  and  assert  his  claim.’ 

“‘Illustrious  shade!’  I  cried,  ‘of  Peleus’  fates 
No  circumstance  the  voice  of  fame  relates: 

But  hear  with  pleased  attention  the  renown, 

The  wars  and  wisdom  of  thy  gallant  son. 

With  me  from  Scyros  to  the  field  of  fame. 

Radiant  in  arms,  the  blooming  hero  came. 

When  Greece  assembled  all  her  hundred  states, 

To  ripen  counsels  and  decide  debates; 

Heavens !  how  he  charm’d  us  with  a  flow  of  sense. 
And  won  the  heart  with  manly  eloquence ! 

He  first  was  seen  of  all  the  peers  to  rise. 

The  third  in  wisdom  where  they  all  were  wise; 


590 


600 


610 


620 


200 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XI. 


But  when,  to  try  the  fortune  of  the  day, 

Host  moved  tow’rd  host  in  terrible  array. 

Before  the  van,  impatient  for  the  fight. 

With  martial  port  he  strode,  and  stern  delight:  G30 

Heaps  strew  d  on  heaps  beneath  his  faulchion  groan’d. 
And  monuments  of  dead  deform’d  the  ground. 

The  time  would  fail  should  I  in  order  tell 

What  foes  were  vanquish’d,  and  what  nunibers  fell : 

How,  lost  through  love,  Eurypylus  was  slain. 

And  round  him  bled  his  bold  Ceta3an  train. 

To  Troy  no  hero  came  of  nobler  line. 

Or,  if  of  nobler,  Memnon,  it  was  thine. 

When  Ilion  in  the  horse  received  her  doom. 

And  unseen  armies  ambush’d  in  its  womb,  640 

Greece  gave  her  latent  warriors  to  my  care, 

’Twas  mine  on  Troy  to  pour  th’  imprison’d  war; 

Then,  when  the  boldest  bosom  beat  with  fear _ 

When  the  stern  eyes  of  heroes  dropp’d  a  tear _ 

Fierce  in  his  look  his  ardent  valour  glow’d. 

Flush’d  in  his  cheek,  or  sallied  in  his  blood; 

Indignant  in  the  dark  recess  he  stands. 

Pants  for  the  battle,  and  the  war  demands : 

His  voice  breathed  death,  and  with  a  martial  air 
He  grasp’d  his  sword,  and  shook  his  glittering  spear.  650 
And  when  the  gods  our  arms  with  conquest  crown’d. 
When  Tioy  s  proud  bulwarks  smoked  upon  the  ground, 
Greece  to  reward  her  soldier’s  gallant  toils. 

Heap’d  high  his  navy  with  unnumber’d  spoils. 

Thus,  great  in  glory,  from  the  din  of  war. 

Safe  he  return’d,  without  one  hostile  scar; 

Though  spears  in  iron  tempests  rain’d  around. 

Yet  innocent  they  play’d,  and  guiltless  of  a  wound.’ 

‘•While  yet  I  spoke,  the  shade  with  transport  glow’d. 
Rose  in  his  majesty,  and  nobler  trod:  qqq 

AYith  haughty  stalk  he  sought  the  distant  glades 
Of  warrior  kings,  and  join’d  th’  illustrious  shades. 

“Now,  without  number,  ghost  by  ghost  arose, 

All  wailing  with  unutterable  woes. 


201 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XI. 

Alone,  apart,  in  discontented  mood, 

A  gloomy  shade  the  sullen  Ajax  stood ; 

For  ever  sad,  with  proud  disdain  he  pined. 

And  the  lost  arms  for  ever  stung  his  mind ; 

Though  to  the  contest  Thetis  gave  the  laws. 

And  Pallas,  by  the  Trojans,  judged  the  cause.  070 

Oh,  why  was  I  victorious  in  the  strife? 

Oh,  dear-bought, honour  with  so  brave  a  life! 

With  him  the  strength  of  wai',  the  soldier’s  pride, 

Our  second  hope  to  great  Achilles,  died ! 

Touch  d  at  the  sight,  from  tears  I  scarce  refrain, 

And  tender  sorrow  thrills  in  every  vein; 

Pensive  and  sad  I  stand,  at  length  accost 
With  accents  mild  th’  inexorable  ghost: 

Still  burns  thy  rage?  and  can  brave  souls  resent  * 
Ev’n  after  death?  Relent,  great  shade,  relent!  680 

Peiish  those  arms  which,  by  the  gods’  decree. 

Accursed  our  army  with  the  loss  of  thee ! 

With  thee  we  fell;  Greece  wept  thy  hapless  fates. 

And  shook  astonish’d  through  her  hundred  states ; 

Not  more,  when  great  Achilles  press’d  the  ground. 

And  breathed  his  manly  spirit  through  the  wound. 

Oh,  deem  thy  fall  not  owed  to  man’s  decree, 

Jove  hated  Greece,  and  punish’d  Greece  in  thee! 

Turn  then,  oh,  peaceful  turn!  thy  wrath  control. 

And  calm  the  raging  tempest  of  thy  soul.’  690 

“While  yet  I  speak,  the  shade  disdains  to  stay. 

In  silence  turns,  and  sullen  stalks  away. 

“Touch’d  at  his  sour  retreat,  through  deepest  night. 
Through  hell’s  black  bounds  I  had  pursued  his  flight. 

And  forced  the  stubborn  spectre  to  reply ; 

But  wondrous  visions  drew  my  curious  eye. 

High  on  a  throne,  tremendous  to  behold. 

Stern  Minos  waves  a  mace  of  burnish’d  gold ; 

Around,  ten  thousand  thousand  spectres  stand 
Through  the  wide  dome  of  Dis,  a  trembling  band.  700 
Still  as  they  plead,  the  fatal  lots  he  rolls, 

Absolves  the  just,  and  dooms  the  guilty  souls. 

9# 


202 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XI. 


“There  huge  Orion,  of  portentous  size, 

Swift  through  the  gloom  a  giant-hunter  flies; 

A  ponderous  mace  of  brass  with  direful  sway 
Aloft  he  whirls,  to  crush  the  savage  prey ; 

Stern  beasts  in  trains  that  by  his  truncheon  fell, 

Now  grisly  forms,  shoot  o’er  the  lawns  of  hell. 

“There  Tytyus,  large  and  long,  in  fetters  bound, 
O’erspreads  nine  acres  of  infernal  ground;  710 

Two  ravenous  vultures,  furious  for  their  food, 

Scream  o’er  the  fiend,  and  riot  in  his  blood ; 

Incessant  gore  the  liver  in  his  breast, 

Th’  immortal  liver  grows,  and  gives  th’  immortal  feast. 
For  as  o’er  Panop^’s  enamel’d  plains 
Latona  journey’d  to  the  Pythian  fanes. 

With  haughty  love  th’  audacious  monster  strove 
To  force  the  goddess,  and  to  rival  Jove. 

“There  Tantalus  along  the  Stygian  bounds 
Pours  out  deep  groans  (with  groans  all  hell  resounds); 
Ev’n  in  the  circling  flood  refreshment  craves,  721 

And  pines  with  thirst  amidst  a  sea  of  waves; 

When  to  the  water  he  his  lip  applies, 

Back  from  his  lip  the  treacherous  water  flies. 

Above,  beneath,  around  his  hapless  head. 

Trees  of  all  kinds  delicious  fruitage  spread ; 

The  figs,  sky-dyed,  a  purple  hue  disclose. 

Green  looks  the  olive,  the  pomegranate  glows, 

There  dangling  pears  exalted  scents  unfold, 

And  yellow  apples  ripen  into  gold:  730 

The  fruit  he  strives  to  seize ;  but  blasts  arise. 

Toss  it  on  high,  and  whirl  it  to  the  skies. 

“I  turn’d  my  eye,  and,  as  I  turn’d,  survey’d 
A  mournful  vision !  the  Sisy phian  shade ; 

With  many  a  weary  step,  and  many  a  groan. 

Up  the  high  hill  he  heaves  a  huge  round  stone; 

The  huge  round  stone,  resulting  with  a  bound, 

Thunders  impetuous  down,  and  smokes  along  the  ground. 
Again  the  restless  orb  his  toil  renews, 

Dust  mounts  in  clouds,  and  sweat  descends  in  dews.  740 


THE  odyssey;  book  XI.' 


203 


“Now  I  the  strength  of  Hercules  behold, 

A  towering  spectre,  of  gigantic  mould, 

A  shadowy  form !  for  high  in  heaven’s  abodes 
Himself  resides,  a  god  among  the  gods ; 

There,  in  the  bright  assemblies  of  the  skies. 

He  nectar  quaffs,  and  Heb^  crowns  his  joys. 

Here  hovering  ghosts,  like  fowl,  his  shade  surround, 

And  clang  their  pinions  with  terrific  sound ; 

Gloomy  as  night  he  stands,  in  act  to  throw 

Th’  aerial  arrow  from  the  twanging  bow.  750 

Around  his  breast  a  wondrous  zone  is  roll’d. 

Where  woodland  monsters  grin  in  fretted  gold. 

The  sullen  lions  sternly  seem  to  roar. 

The  bear  to  growl,  to  foam  the  tusky  boar; 

There  War,  and  Havoc,  and  Destruction,  stood. 

And  vengeful  Murder,  red  with  human  blood. 

Thus  terribly  adorn’d  the  figures  shine. 

Inimitably  wrought  with  skill  divine. 

The  mighty  ghost  advanced  with  awful  look, 

And,  turning  his  grim  visage,  sternly  spoke:  760 

“‘Oh,  exercised  in  grief!  by  arts  refined! 

Oh,  taught  to  bear  the  wrongs  of  base  mankind ! 

Such,  such  was  I!  still  toss’d  from  care  to  care. 

While  in  your  world  I  drew  the  vital  air ! 

Ev’n  I,  who  from  the  Lord  of  Thunders  rose. 

Bore  toils  and  dangers,  and  a  weight  of  woes ; 

To  a  base  monarch  still  a  slave  confined, 

(The  hardest  bondage  to  a  generous  mind !) 

Down  to  these  worlds  I  trod  the  dismal  way, 

And  dragg’d  the  three-mouth’d  dog  to  upper  day',  770 
Ev’n  hell  I  conquer’d  through  the  friendly  aid 
Of  Maia’s  offspring  and  the  martial  maid.’ 

“Thus  he;  nor  deign’d  for  our  reply  to  stay, 

But,  turning,  stalk’d  with  giant-strides  away. 

“Curious  to  view  the  kings  of  ancient  days, 

The  mighty  dead  that  live  in  endless  praise, 

Resolved  I  stand ;  and  haply  had  survey  d 
The  godlike  Theseus,  and  Pirithous’  shade; 


204 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XI. 


But  swarms  of  spectres  rose  from  deepest  hell, 

With  bloodless  visage,  and  with  hideous  yell,  780 

They  scream,  they  shriek;  sad  groans  and  dismal  sounds 
Stun  my  scared  ears,  and  pierce  hell’s  utmost  bounds. 

No  more  my  heart  the  dismal  din  sustains. 

And  my  cold  blood  hangs  shivering  in  my  veins; 

Lest  Gorgon,  rising  from  th’  infernal  lakes. 

With  horrors  arm’d,  and  curls  of  hissing  snakes, 

Should  fix  me  stiffen’d  at  the  monstrous  sight, 

A  stony  image,  in  eternal  night ! 

Straight  from  the  direful  coast  to  purer  air 
I  speed  my  flight,  and  to  my  mates  repair.  790 

My  mates  ascend  the  ship;  they  strike  their  oars; 

The  mountains  lessen,  and  retreat  the  shores: 

Swift  o’er  the  waves  we  fly;  the  freshening  gales 
Sing  through  the  shrouds,  and  stretch  the  swelling  sails.” 


BOOK  XII. 


I 


The  Sirens;  Scylla  and  Charyhdis. 

Argument. — He  relates  how,  after  his  return  from  the  shades,  he  was  scut 
by  Circe  on  his  voyag'e,  by  the  coast  of  the  Sirens,  and  by  the  strait  of 
Scylla  and  Charyhdis:  the  manner  in  which  he  escaped  those  dangers: 
how,  being  cast  on  the  island  of  Trinacria,  his  companions  destroyed  the 
oxen  of  the  Sun:  the  vengeance  That  followed;  how  all  perished  by  ship¬ 
wreck,  except  himself,  who,  swimming  on  the  mast  of  the  ship,  arrived  on 
the  island  of  Calypso  :  with  which  his  relation  concludes. 

“Thus  o’er  the  rolling  surge  the  vessel  flies, 

Till  from  the  waves  the  iEsean  hills  arise. 

Here  the  gay  morn  resides  in  radiant  bowers, 

Here  keeps  her  revels  with  the  dancing  Hours; 

Here  Phoebus,  rising  in  th’  ethereal  way. 

Through  heaven’s  bright  portals  pours  the  beamy  day. 

At  once  we  fix  our  halsers  on  the  land, 

At  once  descend,  and  press  the  desert  sand: 

There,  worn  and  wasted,  lose  our  cares  in  sleep. 

To  the  hoarse  murmurs  of  the  rolling  deep.  10 

“Soon  as  the  morn  restored  the  day,  we  paid 
Sepulchral  honours  to  Elpenor’s  shade. 

Now  by  the  axe  the  rushing  forest  bends, 

And  the  huge  pile  along  the  shore  ascends. 

Around  we  stand,  a  melancholy  train, 

And  a  loud  groan  reechoes  from  the  main. 

Fierce  o’er  the  pyre,  by  fanning  breezes  spread, 

The  hungry  flame  devours  the  silent  dead. 

A  rising  tomb,  the  silent  dead  to  grace. 

Fast  by  the  roaring  of  the  main  we  place;  20 

The  rising  tomb  a  lofty  column  bore. 

And  high  above  it  rose  the  tapering  oar. 

“Meantime,  the  goddess  *  our  return  survey’d 
From  the  pale  ghosts,  and  hell’s  tremendous  shade. 


*  Circfe. 


206 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XII. 


Swift  she  descends:  a  train  of  nymphs  divine 
Bear  the  rich  viands  and  the  generous  wine : 

In  act  to  speak,  the  Power  of  magic  stands, 

And  graceful  thus  accosts  the  listening  bands: 

“‘Oh,  sons  of  wo!  decreed  by  adverse  fates 
Alive  to  pass  through  hell’s  eternal  gates !  30 

All,  soon  or  late,  are  doom’d  that  path  to  tread ; 

More  wretched  you,  twice  number’d  with  the  dead  1 
This  day  adjourn  your  cares,  exalt  your  souls. 

Indulge  the  taste,  and  drain  the  sparkling  bowls ; 

And  when  the  morn  unveils  her  saffron  ray. 

Spread  your  broad  sails,  and  plough  the  liquid  way. 

Lo  1  I  this  night,  your  faithful  guide,  explain 
Your  woes  by  land,  your  dangers  on  the  main.’ 

“The  goddess  spoke:  in  feasts  we  waste  the  day. 

Till  Phoebus  downward  plunged  his  burning  ray;  40 
Then  sabb  night  ascends,  and  balmy  rest 
Seals  every  eye,  and  calms  the  troubled  breast. 

Then,  curious,  she  commands  me  to  relate 
The  dreadful  scenes  of  Pluto’s  dreary  state. 

She  sat  in  silence  while  the  tale  I  tell. 

The  wondrous  visions,  and  the  laws  of  hell. 

“Then  thus:  ‘The  lot  ofTnan  the  gods  dispose; 

These  ills  are  past :  now  hear  thy  future  woes. 

O  prince,  attend!  some  favouring  power  be  kind, 

And  print  th’  important  story  on  thy  mind !  50 

“Next,  where  the  Sirens  dwell,  you  plough  the  seas; 
Their  song  is  death,  and  makes  destruction  please. 
Unbless’d  the  man,  whom  music  wins  to  stay 
Nigh  the  cursed  shore,  and  listen  to  the  lay; 

No  more  that  wretch  shall  view  the  joys  of  life. 

His  blooming  offspring,  or  his  beauteous  wife : 

In  verdant  meads  they  sport;  and  wide  around 
Lie  human  bones,  that  whiten  all  the  ground ; 

The  ground  polluted  floats  with  human  gore. 

And  human  carnage  taints  the  dreadful  shore. 

Fly  swift  the  dangerous  coast:  let  every  ear 
Be  stopp’d  against  the  song !  ’tis  death  to  hear ! 


60 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XII. 


207 


Firm  to  the  mast  with  chains  thyself  be  bound, 

Nor  trust  thy  virtue  to  th’  enchanting  sound. 

If,  mad  with  transport,  freedom  thou  demand. 

Be  every  fetter  strain’d,  and  added  band  to  band. 

These  seas  o’erpass’d,  be  wise!  But  I  refrain 
To  mark  distinct  thy  voyage  o’er  the  main : 

New  horrors  rise!  let  prudence  be  thy  guide. 

And  guard  thy  various  passage  through  the  tide.  70 

High  o’er  the  main  two  rocks  exalt  their  brow. 

The  boiling  billows  thundering  roll  below; 

Through  the  vast  waves  the  dreadful  wonders  move. 
Hence  named  Erratic  by  the  gods  above. 

No  bird  of  air,  no  dove  of  swiftest  wing. 

That  bears  ambrosia  to  th’  ethereal  king. 

Shuns  the  dire  rocks:  in  vain  she  cuts  the  skies. 

The  dire  rocks  meet,  and  crush  her  as  she  flies; 

Not  the  fleet  bark,  vrhen  prosperous  breezes  play. 

Ploughs  o’er  that  roaring  surge  its  desperate  way ;  80 

O’erwhelm’d  it  sinks:  while  round  a  smoke  expires. 

And  the  waves  flashing  seem  to  burn  with  fires. 

Scarce  the  famed  Argo  pass’d  these  raging  floods. 

The  sacred  Argo,  fill’d  with  demi-gods ! 

Ev’n  she  had  sunk,  but  Jove’s  imperial  bride 
Wing’d  her  fleet  sail,  and  push’d  her  o’er  the  tide. 

High  in  the  air  the  rock  its  summits  shrouds 
In  brooding  tempests,  and  in  rolling  clouds : 

Loud  storms  around  and  mists  eternal  rise. 

Beat  its  bleak  brow,  and  intercept  the  skies.  90 

When  all  the  broad  expansion,  bright  with  day. 

Glows  with  th’  autumnal  or  the  summer  ray, 

The  summer  and  the  autumn  glow  in  vain. 

The  sky  for  ever  lowers,  for  ever  clouds  remain. 
Impervious  to  the  step  of  man  it  stands, 

Tho’  borne  by  twenty  feet,  tho’  arm’d  with  twenty  hands; 
Smooth  as  the  polish  of  the  mirror  rise 
The  slippery  sides,  and  shoot  intb  the  skies. 

Full  in  the  centre  of  this  rock  display’d, 

A  vawnin^  cavern  casts  a  dreadful  shade: 


100 


208 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XII. 


Nor  the  fleet  arrow  from  the  twanging  bow, 

Sent  with  full  force,  could  reach  the  depth  below. 

Wide  to  the  west  the  horrid  gulf  extends. 

And  the  dire  passage  down  to  hell  descends. 

Oh,  fly  the  dreadful  sight !  expand  thy  sails, 

Ply  the  strong  oar,  and  catch  the  nimble  gales ; 

Here  Scylla  bellows  from  her  dire  abodes. 

Tremendous  pest,  abhorr’d  by  men  and  gods! 

Hideous  her  voice,  and  with  less  terrors  roar 

The  whelps  of  lions  in  the  midnight  hour.  110 

Twelve  feet,  deform’d  and  foul,  the  fiend  dispreads; 

Six  horrid  necks  she  rears,  and  six  terrific  heads; 

Her  jaws  grin  dreadful  with  three  rows  of  teeth: 

Jaggy  they  stand,  the  gaping  den  of  death; 

Her  parts  obscene  the  raging  billows  hide; 

Her  bosom  terribly  o’erlooks  the  tide. 

When  stung  with  hunger  she  embroils  the  flood. 

The  sea-dog  and  the  dolphin  are  her  food; 

She  makes  the  huge  leviathan  her  prey,  -  ^ 

And  all  the  monsters  of  the  watery  way;  120 

The  swiftest  racer  of  the  azure  plain 
Here  fills  her  sails  and  spreads  her  oars  in  vain; 

Fell  Scylla  rises,  in  her  fury  roars. 

At  once  six  mouths  expands,  at  once  six  men  devours. 

“‘Close  by,  a  rock  of  less  enormous  height 
Breaks  the  wild  waves,  and  forms  a  dangerous  strait; 

Full  on  its  crown  a  fig’s  green  branches  rise. 

And  shoot  a  leafy  forest  to  the  skies ; 

Beneath,  Charybdis  holds  her  boisterous  reign 

’Midst  roaring  whirlpools,  and  absorbs  the  main;  130 

Thrice  in  her  gulfs  the  boiling  seas  subside. 

Thrice  in  dire  thunders  she  refunds  the  tide. 

Oh,  if  thy  vessel  plough  the  direful  waves 
When  seas  retreating  roar  within  her  caves. 

Ye  perish  all!  though  he  who  rules  the  main 
Lend  his  strong  aid,  his  aid  he  lends  in  vain. 

Ah,  shun  the  horrid  gulf!  by  Scylla  fly, 

’Tis  better  six  to  lose,  than  all  to  die.’ 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XII. 


209 


“I  then:  *Oh,  nymph  propitious  to  my  prayer, 

Goddess  divine!  my  guardian  power,  declare,  140 

Is  the  foul  fiend  from  human  vengeance  freed? 

Or,  if  I  rise  in  arms,  can  Scylla  bleed  V 

“Then  she:  ‘Oh,  worn  by  toils!  oh,  broke  in  fight! 

Still  are  new  toils  and  war  thy  dire  delight? 

With  martial  flames  for  ever  fire  thy  mind. 

And  never,  never,  be  to  Heaven  resign’d? 

How  vain  thy  efforts  to  avenge  the  wrong ! 

Deathless  the  pest!  impenetrably  strong! 

Furious  and  fell,  tremendous  to  behold! 

Ev’n  with  a  look  she  withers  all  the  bold!  150 

She  mocks  the  weak  attempts  of  human  might: 

Oh,  fly  her  rage !  thy  conquest  is  thy  flight. 

If  but  to  seize  thy  arms  thou  make  delay. 

Again  the  fury  vindicates  her  prey. 

Her  six  mouths  yawn,  and  six  are  snatch’d  away. 

From  her  foul  womb  Cratais  gave  to  air 
This  dreadful  pest!  To  her  direct  thy  prayer, 

To  curb  the  monster  in  her  dire  abodes. 

And  guard  thee  through  the  tumult  of  the  floods. 

Thence  to  Trinacria’s  shore  you  bend  your  way,  160 
Where  graze  thy  herds,  illustrious  Source  of  Day ! 

I  Seven  herds,  seven  flocks,  enrich  the  sacred  plain. 

Each  herd,  each  flock,  full  fifty  heads  contain: 

I'  The  wondrous  kind  a  length  of  age  survey. 

By  breed  increase  not,  nor  by  death  decay. 

■  Two  sister  goddesses  possess  the  plain, 

;|'  The  constant  guardians  of  the  woolly  train: 

|l  Lampetia  fair  and  Pha4tusa  young, 

1  From  Phoebus  and  the  bright  Nesera  sprung: 

I  Here,  watchful  o’er  the  flocks,  in  shady  bowers  70 

;  And  flowery  meads  they  waste  the  joyous  hours. 

Rob  not  the  god !  and  so  propitious  gales 
'  Attend  thy  voyage,  and  impel  thy  sails ; 

But  if  thy  impious  hands  the  flocks  destroy, 
i  The  gods,  the  gods  avenge  it,  and  ye  die! 

'  ’Tis  thine  alone  (thy  friends  and  navy  lost) 

I  Through  tedious  toils  to  view  thy  native  coast.’ 


210  the  odyssey,  book  XII. 

“She  ceased:  and  now  arose  the  morning  ray; 

Swift  to  her  dome  the  goddess  held  her  way. 

Then  to  my  mates  I  measured  back  the  plain,  180 

Climb’d  the  tall  bark,  and  rush’d  into  the  main; 

Then,  bending  to  the  stroke,  their  oars  they  drew 
To  their  broad  breasts,  and  swift  the  galley  flew. 

Up  sprung  a  brisker  breeze;  with  freshening  gales 
The  friendly  goddess  stretch’d  the  swelling  sails: 

We  drop  our  oars;  at  ease  the  pilot  guides; 

The  vessel  light  along  the  level  glides. 

When,  rising,  sad  and  slow,  with  pensive  look. 

Thus  to  the  melancholy  train  I  spoke : 

“‘Oh,  friends!  oh,  ever  partners  of  my  woes!  190 
Attend,  while  I  what  Heaven  foredooms  disclose: 

Hear  all  •  Fate  hangs  o’er  all ;  on  you  it  lies 
To  live  or  perish !  to  be  safe,  be  wise ! 

In  flowery  meads  the  sportive  Sirens  play. 

Touch  the  soft  lyre,  and  tune  the  vocal  lay ; 

Me,  me  alone,  with  fetters  firmly  bound,  ^ 

The  gods  allow  to  hear  the  dangerous  sound. 

Hear  and  obey:  if  freedom  I  demand,  ^ 

Be  every  fetter  strain’d,  be  added  band  to  band.’ 

“While  yet  I  speak,  the  winged  galley  flies,  200 

And,  lo !  the  Siren  shores  like  mists  arise. 

Sunk  were  at  once  the  winds :  the  air  above. 

And  waves  below,  at  once  forgot  to  move: 

Some  demon  calmed  the  air,  and  smoothed  the  deep. 
Hush’d  the  loud  winds,  and  charm’d  the  waves  to  sleep. 
Now  every  sail  we  furl,  each  oar  we  ply; 

Lash’d  by  the  stroke  the  frothy  waters  fly. 

The  ductile  wax  with  busy  hands  I  mould. 

And  cleft  in  fragments,  and  the  fragments  roll’d; 

The  aerial  region  now  grew  warm  with  day,  210 

The  wax  dissolved  beneath  the  burning  ray; 

Then  every  ear  I  barr’d  against  the  strain. 

And  from  access  of  phrensy  lock’d  the  brain. 

Now  round  the  mast  my  mates  the  fetters  roll’d. 

And  bound  me  limb  by  limb  with  fold  on  fold. 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XII. 


21i 


Then,  bending  to  the  stroke,  the  active  train 
Plunge  all  at  once  their  oars,  and  cleave  the  main. 
While  to  the  shore  the  rapid  vessel  flies. 

Our  swift  approach  the  Siren  choir  descries; 

Celestial  music  warbles  from  their  tongue. 

And  thus  the  sweet  deluders  tune  the  song: 

“‘Oh,  stay!  oh,  pride  of  Greece!  Ulysses,  stay! 
Oh,  cease  thy  course,  and  listen  to  our  lay ! 

Bless’d  is  the  man  ordain’d  our  voice  to  hear. 

The  song  instructs  the  soul,  and  charms  the  ear. 
Approach!  thy  soul  shall  into  raptures  rise! 
Approach !  and  learn  new  wisdom  from  the  wise ! 
We  know  whate’er  the  kings  of  mighty  name 
Achieved  at  Ilion  in  the  field  of  fame; 

Whate’er  beneath  the  sun’s  bright  journey  lies. 

Oh,  stay!  and  learn  new  wisdom  from  the  wise!’ 

“  Thus  the  sweet  charmers  warbled  o’er  the  main ; 
My  soul  takes  wing  to  meet  the  heavenly  strain; 

I  give  the  sign,  and  struggle  to  be  free: 

Swift  row  my  mates,  and  shoot  along  the  sea; 

New  chains  they  add,  and  rapid  urge  the  way. 

Till,  dying  off,  the  distant  sounds  decay: 

Then,  scudding  swiftly  from  the  dangerous  ground. 
The  deafen’d  ear  unlock’d,  the  chain  unbound. 

“Now  all  at  once  tremendous  scenes  unfold; 
Thunder’d  the  deeps,  the  smoking  billows  roll’d! 

I  Tumultuous  waves  embroil  the  bellowing  flood, 

'  All  trembling,  deafen’d,  and  aghast  we  stood ! 

'  No  more  the  vessel  plough’d  the  dreadful  wave, 

I  Fear  seized  the  mighty,  and  unnerved  the  brave ; 
Each  dropp’d  his  oar :  but  swift  from  man  to  man 
With  looks  serene  I  turn’d,  and  thus  began : 

I  “‘O  friends!  oh,  often  tried  in  adveise  storms! 
With  ills  familiar  in  more  dreadful  forms! 

Deep  in  the  dire  Cyclopean  den  you  lay. 

Yet  safe  return’d — Ulysses  led  the  way. 

Learn  courage  hence,  and  in  my  care  confide; 

I  Lo!  still  the  same  Ulysses  is  your  guide. 


220 


230 


240 


250 


212 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XII. 


Attend  my  words !  your  oars  incessant  ply ; 

Strain  every  nerve,  and  bid  the  vessel  fly. 

If  from  yon  justling  rocks  and  wavy  war 
Jove  safety  grants,  he  grants  it  to  your  care. 

And  thou,  whose  guiding  hand  directs  our  way. 

Pilot,  attentive  listen  and  obey! 

Bear  wide  thy  course,  nor  plough  those  angry  waves  260 
Where  rolls  yon  smoke,  yon  tumbling  ocean  raves: 

Steer  by  the  higher  rock;  lest  whirl’d  around 
We  sink,  beneath  the  circling  eddy  drown’d.’ 

“While  yet  I  speak,  at  once  their  oars  they  seize. 
Stretch  to  the  stroke,  and  brush  the  working  seas. 
Cautious  the  name  of  Scylla  I  suppress’d ; 

That  dreadful  sound  had  chill’d  the  boldest  breast. 

“Meantime,  forgetful  of  the  voice  divine. 

All  dreadful  bright,  my  limbs  in  armour  shine; 

High  on  the  deck  I  take  my  dangerous  stand,  270 

Two  glittering  javelins  lighten  in  my  hand: 

Prepared  to  whirl  the  whizzing  spear  I  stay,  r 

Till  the  fell  fiend  arise  to  seize  her  prey. 

Around  the  dungeon,  studious  to  behold 
^The  hideous  pest,  my  labouring  eyes  I  roll’d; 

In  vain  !  the  dismal  dungeon,  dark  as  night. 

Veils  the  dire  monster,  and  confounds  the  sight. 

“Now  through  the  rocks,  appall’d  with  deep  dismay, 
We  bend  our  course,  and  stem  the  desperate  way; 

Dire  Scylla  there  a  scene  of  horror  forms,  280 

And  here  Charybdis  fills  the  deep  with  storms. 

When  the  tide  rushes  from  her  rumbling  caves 
The  rough  rock  roars;  tumultuous  boil  the  waves; 

They  toss,  they  foam,  a  wild  confusion  raise. 

Like  waters  bubbling  o’er  the  fiery  blaze ; 

Eternal  mists  obscure  th’  aerial  plain. 

And  high  above  the  rock  she  spouts  the  main: 

When  in  her  gulfs  the  rushing  sea  subsides. 

She  drains  the  ocean  with  the  refluent  tides: 

The  rock  rebellows  with  a  thundering  sound;  290 

Deep,  wondrous  deep  below,  appears  the  ground. 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XII. 


213 


“Struck  with  despair,  with  trembling  hearts  we  view’d 
The  yawning  dungeon,  and  the  tumbling  flood; 

When,  lo !  fierce  Scylla  stoop’d  to  seize  her  prey. 

Stretch’d  her  dire  jaws,  and  swept  six  men  away ; 

Chiefs  of  renown !  loud-echoing  shrieks  arise : 

I  turn,  and  view  them  quivering  in  the  skies ; 

They  call,  and  aid  with  out-stretch’d  arms  implore: 

In  vain  they  call !  those  arms  are  stretch’d  no  more. 

As  from  some  rock  that  overhangs  the  flood,  300 

The  silent  fisher  casts  the  insidious  food, 

With  fraudful  care  he  waits  the  finny  prize, 

And  sudden  lifts  it  quivering  to  the  skies : 

So  the  foul  monster  lifts  her  prey  on  high, 

So  pant  the  wretches  struggling  in  the  sky : 

In  the  wide  dungeon  she  devours  her  food. 

And  the  flesh  trembles  while  she  churns  the  blood. 

Worn  as  I  am  with  griefs,  with  cares  decay’d. 

Never,  I  never,  scene  so  dire  survey’d! 

My  shivering  blood,  congeal’d  forgot  to  flow;  310 

Aghast  I  stood,  a  monument  of  wo  1 

“Now  from  the  rocks  the  rapid  vessel  flies. 

And  the  hoarse  din  like  distant  thunder  dies ; 

To  Sol’s  bright  isle  our  voyage  we  pursue. 

And  now  the  glittering  mountains  rise  to  view. 

There,  sacred  to  the  radiant  god  of  day. 

Graze  the  fair  herds,  the  flocks  promiscuous  stray : 

Then  suddenly  was  heard  along  the  main 
To  low  the  ox,  to  bleat  the  woolly  train. 

Straight  to  my  anxious  thoughts  the  sound  convey’d  320 
j  The  words  of  Circb  and  the  Theban  shade ; 

I  Warn’d  by  their  awful  voice  these  shores  to  shun. 

With  cautious  fears  oppress’d,  I  thus  begun: 

“‘Oh,  friends!  oh,  ever  exercised  in  care! 

Hear  Heaven’s  commands,  and  reverence  what  ye  hear! 

'  To  fly  these  shores  the  prescient  Theban  shade 
-  And  Circ^  warns!  Oh,  be  their  voice  obey’d! 
i  Some  mighty  wo  relentless  Heaven  forebodes: 

1  Fly  these  dire  regions,  and  revere  the  gods! 


214 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XII. 


“While  yet  I  spoke,  a  sudden  sorrow  ran  330 

Through  every  breast,  and  spread  from  man  to  man. 

Till  wrathful  thus  Eurylochus  began: 

“‘Oh,  cruel  thou!'  some  fury  sure  has  steel’d 
That  stubborn  soul,  by  toil  untaught  to  yield  1 
From  sleep  debarred,  we  sink  from  woes  to  woes : 

And,  cruel,  enviest  thou  a  short  repose? 

Still  must  we  restless  rove,  new  seas  explore. 

The  sun  descending,  and  so  near  the  shore? 

And,  lo !  the  night  begins  her  gloomy  reign. 

And  doubles  all  the  terrors  of  the  main.  340 

Oft  in  the  dead  of  night  loud  winds  arise. 

Lash  the  wild  surge,  and  bluster  in  the  skies; 

Oh  1  should  the  fierce  south-west  his  rage  display. 

And  toss  with  rising  storms  the  watery  way, 

Though  gods  descend  from  heaven’s  aerial  plain, 

To  lend  us  aid,  the  gods  descend  in  vain; 

Then  while  the  night  displays  her  awful  shade. 

Sweet  time  of  slumber  1  be  the  night  obey’d  1 
Haste  ye  to  land !  and  when  the  morning  ray 
Sheds  her  bright  beams,  pursue  the  destined  way.’  350 
“A  sudden  joy  in  every  bosom  rose; 

So  will’d  some  demon,  minister  of  woes  I 

“To  whom  with  grief:  ‘Oh,  swift  to  be  undone. 
Constrain’d  I  act  what  wisdom  bids  me  shun. 

But  yonder  herds  and  yonder  flocks  forbear ; 

Attest  the  heavens,  and  call  the  gods  to  hear:- 
Content,  an  innocent  repast  display. 

By  Circ^  given,  and  fly  the  dangerous  prey.’ 

“Thus  I:  and  while  to  shore  the  vessel  flies. 

With  hands  uplifted  they  attest  the  skies ;  360 

Then  where  a  fountain’s  gurgling  waters  play, 

They  rush  to  land,  and  end  in  feasts  the  day: 

They  feed;  they  quaff:  and  now  (their  hunger  fled) 

Sigh  for  their  friends  devour’d,  and  mourn  the  dead. 

Nor  cease  the  tears  till  each  in  slumber  shares 
A  sweet  forgetfulness  of  human  cares. 

“Now  far  the  night  advanced  her  gloomy  reign. 

And  setting  stars  roll’d  down  the  azure  plain: 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XII. 


215 


When,  at  the  voice  of  Jove,  wild  whirlwinds  rise, 
"And  clouds  and  double  darkness  veil  the  skies; 


The  moon,  the  stars,  the  bright  ethereal  host 
Seem  as  extinct,  and  all  their  splendours  lost; 

The  furious  tempest  roars  with  dreadful  sound: 

Air  thunders,  rolls  the  ocean,  groans  the  ground. 

All  night  it  raged:  when  morning  rose,  to  land 
We  haul’d  our  bark,  and  moor’d  it  on.  the  strand. 

Where  in  a  beauteous  grotto’s  cool  recess 
Dance  the  green  Nereids  of  the  neighbouring  seas. 

There  w’hile  the  wild  winds  whistled  o’er  the  main. 

Thus  careful  I  address’d  the  listening  train:  ^  380 

“‘Oh,  friends!  be  wise;  nor  dare  the  flocks  destroy 
Of  these  fair  pastures:  if  ye  touch,  ye  die. 

Warned  by  the  high  command  of  Heaven,  be  awed ; 

Holy  the  flocks,  and  dreadful  is  the  god  I 
That  god  who  spreads  the  radiant  beams  of  light. 

And  views  wide  earth’s  and  heaven’s  unmeasured  height.’ 

“And  now  the  moon  had  run  her  monthly  round. 

The  south-east  blustering  with  a  dreadful  sound: 

Unhurt  the  beeves,  untouch’d  the  woolly  train. 

Low  through  the  grove,  or  range  the  flowery  plain:  390 
Then  fail’d  our  food;  then  fish  we  make  our  prey. 

Or  fowl,  that,  screaming,  haunt  the  watery  way. 

Till  now,  from  sea  or  flood  no  succour  found. 

Famine  and  meagre  want  besieged  us  round. 

Pensive  and  pale,  from  grove  to  grove  I  stray’d, 

From  the  loud  storms  to  find  a  sylvan  shade; 

There  o’er  my  hands  the  living  wave  I  pour; 

And  Heaven,  and  Heaven’s  immortal  thrones,  adore, 

To  calm  the  roarings  of  the  stormy  main. 

And  grant  me  peaceful  to  my  realms  again.  400 

Then  o’er  my  eyes  the  gods  soft  slumber  shed. 

While  thus  Eurylochus,  arising,  said: 

“‘Oh,  friends!  a  thousand  ways  frail  mortals  lead 
To  the  cold  tomb,  and  dreadful  all  to  tread; 

But  dreadful  most,  when,  by  a  slow  decay. 

Pale  hunger  wastes  the  manly  strength  away. 


216 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XII. 


Why  cease  ye  then  t’  implore  the  powers  above,  , 

And  offer  hecatombs  to  thundering  Jove? 

Why  seize  ye  not  yon  beeves  and  fleecy  prey  ? 

Arise  unanimous;  arise,  and  slay !  410 

And  if  the  gods  ordain  a  safe  return. 

To  Phoebus  shrines  shall  rise,  and  altars  burn. 

But  should  the  powers  that  o’er  mankind  preside. 

Decree  to  plunge  us  in  the  whelming  tide. 

Better  to  rush  at  once  to  shades  below. 

Than  linger  life  away,  and  nourish  wo !’ 

“Thus  he:  the  beeves  around  securely  stray. 

When  swift  to  ruin  they  invade  the  prey ; 

They  seize,  they  kill !  but  for  the  rite  divine. 

The  barley  fail’d,  and  for  libations,  wine.  420 

Swift  from  the  oak  they  strip  the  shady  pride ; 

And  verdant  leaves  the  flowery  cake  supplied. 

With  prayer  they  now  address’d  th’  ethereal  train. 

Slay  the  selected  beeves,  and  flay  the  slain: 

The  thighs  with  fat  involved,  divide  with  art,  ^ 

Strew’d  o’er  with  morsels  cut  from  every  part. 

Water,  instead  of  wine,  is  brought  in  urns. 

And  pour’d  profanely  as  the  victim  burns. 

The  thighs  thus  offer’d,  and  the  entrails  dress’d. 

They  roast  the  fragments,  and  prepare  the  feast.  430 
“’Twas  then  soft  slumber  fled  my  troubled  brain; 

Back  to  the  bark  I  speed  along  the  main. 

When,  lo !  an  odour  from  the  feast  exhales. 

Spreads  o’er  the  coast,  and  scents  the  tainted  gales ; 

A  chilly  fear  congeal’d  my  vital  blood. 

And  thus,  obtesting  Heaven,  I  mourn’d  aloud : 

“‘Oh,  sire  of  men  and  gods,  immortal  Jove! 

Oh,  all  ye  blissful  powers  that  reign  above  I 
Why  were  my  cares  beguiled  in  short  repose? 

Oh,  fatal  slumber,  paid  with  lasting  woes  I  440 

A  deed  so  dreadful  all  the  gods  alarms. 

Vengeance  is  on  the  wing,  and  heaven  in  arms!’ 

“  Meantime,  Lampetia  mounts  th’  aerial  way, 

And  kindles  into  rage  the  god  of  day : 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XII.. 


217 


“‘Vengeance,  ye  powers  V  he  cries, ‘and  thou  whose  hand 
Aims  the  red  bolt,  and  hurls  the  writhen  brand ! 

Slain  are  those  herds  which  I  with  pride  survey, 

When  through  the  ports  of  heaven  I  pour  the  day. 

Or  deep  in  ocean  plunge  the  burning  ray. 

V engeance,  ye  gods !  or  I  the  skies  forego,  450 

And  bear  the  lamp  of  heaven  to  shades  below.’ 

“  To  whom  the  thundering  Power :  ‘  Oh,  source  of  day ! 
Whose  radiant  lamp  adorns  the  azure  way. 

Still  may  thy  beams  through  heaven’s  bright  portals  rise. 
The  joy  of  earth,  and  glory  of  the  skies ; 

Lo !  my  red  arm  I  bare,  my  thunders  guide. 

To  dash  th’  offenders  in  the  whelming  tide.’ 

“To  fair  Calypso  from  the  bright  abodes, 

Hermes  convey’d  these  counsels  of  the  gods. 

Meantime,  from  man  to  man  my  tongue  exclaims,  460 
My  wrath  is  kindled,  and  my  soul  in  flames. 

In  vain !  I  view  perform’d  the  direful  deed. 

Beeves  slain  by  heaps  along  the  ocean  bleed. 

“Now  Heaven  gave  signs  of  wrath;  along  the  ground 
Crept  the  raw  hides,  and  with  a  bellowing  sound 
Roar’d  the  dead  limbs ;  the  burning  entrails  groan’d. 

Six  guilty  days  my  wretched  mates  employ 
In  impious  feasting,  and  unhallow’d  joy ; 

The  seventh  arose,  and  now  the  sire  of  gods 

Rein’d  the  rough  storms,  and  calm’d  the  tossing  floods :  470 

With  speed  the  bark  we  climb ;  the  spacious  sails. 

Loosed  from  the  yards,  invite  th’  impelling  gales. 

Pass’d  sight  of  shore,  along  the  surge  we  bound, 

And  all  above  is  sky,  and  ocean  all  around ; 

When,  lo !  a  murky  cloud  the  Thunderer  forms 
Full  o’er  our  heads,  and  blackens  heaven  with  storms. 
Night  dwells  o’er  all  the  deep :  and  now  outflies 
The  gloomy  West,  and  whistles  in  the  skies. 

The  mountain-billows  roar !  the  furious  blast 

Howls  o’er  the  shrouds,  and  rends  it  from  the  mast;  480 

The  mast  gives  way,  and,  crackling  as  it  bends, 

'  Tears  up  the  deck;  then  all  at  once  descends; 

JO 


318 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XII. 


The  pilot,  by  the  tumbling  ruin  slain, 

Dash’d  from  the  helm,  falls  headlong  in  the  mam. 

Then  Jove  in  anger  bids  his  thunders  roll. 

And  forky  lightnings  flash  from  pole  to  pole : 

Fierce  at  our  heads  his  deadly  bolt  he  aims. 

Red  with  uncommon  wrath,  and  wrapt  in  flames . 

Full  on  the  bark  it  fell ;  now  high,  now  low, 

Toss’d  and  retoss’d,  it  reel’d  beneath  the  blow , 

At  once  into  the  main  the  crew  it  shook : 

Sulphureous  odours  rose,  and  smouldering  smoke. 
Like  fowl  that  haunt  the  floods,  they  sink,  they  rise. 
Now  lost,  now  seen,  with  shrieks  and  dreadful  cries, 
And  strive  to  gain  the  bark ;  but  Jove  denies. 

Firm  at  the  helm  I  stand,  when  fierce  the  mam 
Rush’d  with  dire  noise,  and  dash’d  the  sides  m  twain; 
Again  impetuous  drove  the  furious  blast. 

Snapp’d  the  strong  helm,  and  bore  to  sea  the  mast ; 
Firm  to  the  mast  with  cords  the  helm  I  bind. 

And  ride  aloft,  to  Providence  resign’d. 

Through  tumbling  billows  and  a  war  of  wind. 

“Now  sunk  the  west,  and  now  a  southern  breeze, 
More  dreadful  than  the  tempest,  lash’d  the  seas. 

For  on  the  rocks  it  bore  where  Scylla  raves, 


And  dire  Charybdis  rolls  her  thundering  waves. 
All  night  I  drove;  and  at  the  dawn  of  day. 

Fast  by  the  rocks  beheld  the  desperate  way: 
Just  when  the  sea  within  her  gulfs  subsides. 

And  in  the  roaring  whirlpools  rush  the  tides. 
Swift  from  the  float  I  vaulted  with  a  bound. 

The  lofty  fig-tree  seized,  and  clung  around: 

So  to  the  beam  the  bat  tenacious  clings, 


And,  pendant,  round  it  clasps  his  leathern  wings. 
High  in  the  air  the  tree  its  boughs  display’d, 

And  o’er  the  dungeon  cast  a  dreadful  shade. 

All  unsustain’d  between  the  wave  and  sky. 
Beneath  my  feet  the  whirling  billows  fly, 
What-time  the  judge  forsakes  the  noisy  bar 
To  take  repast,  and  stills  the  wordy  war; 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XII.  219 

Charybdis,  rumbling  from  her  inmost  caves, 

The  mast  refunded  on  her  refluent  waves. 

Swift  from  the  tree,  the  floating  mast  to  gain. 

Sudden  I  dropp’d  amidst  the  flashing  main ; 

Once  more  undaunted  on  the  ruin  rode. 

And  oar’d  with  labouring  arms  along  the  flood. 

Unseen  I  pass’d  by  Scylla’s  dire  abodes; 

So  Jove  decreed — dread  sire  of  men  and  gods. 

Then  nine  long  days  I  plough’d  the  calmer  seas. 

Heaved  by  the  surge,  and  wafted  by  the  breeze.  530 
Weary  and  wet  the  Ogygian  shores  I  gain. 

When  the  tenth  sun  descended  to  the  main. 

There,  in  Calypso’s  ever-fragrant  bowers, 

Refresh’d  I  lay,  and  joy  beguiled  the  hours. 
f  “My  following  fates  to  thee,  O  king,  are  known. 

And  the  bright  partner  of  thy  royal  throne. 

Enough!  In  misery  can  words  avail? 

And  what  so  tedious  as  a  twice-told  tale?” 


BOOK  XIII. 

i 

The  Arrival  of  Ulysses  in  Ithaca;  his  Transformation. 

Argument. — Ulysses  takes  leave  of  Alcinoiis  and  Aretfe,  and  embarks  in  the 
evening’.  Next  morning  the  ship  arrives  at  Ithaca ;  where  the  sailors,  as 
Ulysses  is  yet  sleeping,  lay  him  on  the  shore  with  all  his  treasures.  On 
their  return,  Neptune  changes  their  ship  into  a  rock.  In  the  mean  time, 
Ulysses,  awaking,  knows  not  his  native  Ithaca,  by  reason  of  a  mist  which 
Pallas  had  cast  round  him.  He  breaks  into  loud  lamentations ;  till  the 
goddess,  appearing  to  him  in  the  form  of  a  shepherd,  discovers  the  country 
to  him,  and  points  out  the  particular  places.  He  then  tells  a  feigned  story 
of  his  adventures,  upon  which  she  manifests  herself,  and  they  consult 
together  of  the  measures  to  be  taken  to  destroy  the  suitors.  To  conceal 
his  return,  and  disguise  his  person  the  more  effectually,  she  changes  him 
into  the  figure  of  an  old  beggar. 


He  ceased ;  but  left  so  pleasing  on  their  ear 
His  voice,  that,  listening  still,  they  seem’d  to  hear. 

A  pause  of  silence  hush’d  the  shady  rooms ; 

The  grateful  conference  then  the  king  resumes :  J 

“Whatever  toils  the  great^Ulysses  pass’d,  // 

Beneath  this  happy  roof  they  end  at  last;  ^ 

No  longer  now  from  shore  to  shore  to  roam. 

Smooth  seas  and  gentle  winds  invite  him  home. 

But  hear  me,  princes !  whom  these  walls  enclose. 

For  whom  my  chanter  sings,  and  goblet  flows!  10 

With  wines  unmix’d  (an  honour  due  to  age. 

To  cheer  the  grave,  and  warm  the  poet’s  rage); 

Though  labour’d  gold  and  many  a  dazzling  vest 
Lie  heap’d  already  for  our  godlike  guest; 

Without  new  treasures  let  him  not  remove. 

Large,  and  expressive  of  the  public  love: 

Each  peer  a  tripod,  each  a  vase  bestow, 

A  general  tribute  which  the  state  shall  owe.” 

This  sentence  pleased:  then  all  their  steps  address’d 
To  separate  mansions,  and  retired  to  rest.  20 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XIII. 


221 


Now  did  the  rosy-finger’d  morn  arise, 

And  shed  her  sacred  light  along  the  skies. 

Down  to  the  haven  and  the  ships  in  haste 
They  bore  the  treasures,  and  in  safety  placed. 

The  king  himself  the  vases  ranged  with  care; 

Then  bade  his  followers  to  the  feast  repair. 

A  victim  ox  beneath  the  sacred  hand 
Of  great  Alcinoiis  falls,  and  stains  the  sand. 

To  Jove  th’  Eternal  (power  above  all  powers! 

Who  wings  the  winds,  and'  darkens  heaven  with  showers) 
The  flames  ascend:  till  evening  they  prolong  31 

The  rites,  more  sacred  made  by  heavenly  song: 

For  in  the  midst,  with  public  honours  graced, 

Thy  lyre  divine,  Demodocus !  was  placed. 

All,  but  Ulysses,  heard  with  fix’d  delight: 

He  sate,  and  eyed  the  sun,  and  wish’d  the  night : 

Slow  seem’d  the  sun  to  move,  the  hours  to  roll. 

His  native  home  deep  imaged  in  his  soul. 

As  the  tired  ploughman,  spent  with  stubborn  toil. 

Whose  oxen  long  have  torn  the  furrow’d  soil,  40 

Sees  with  delight  the  sun’s  declining  ray. 

When  home  with  feeble  knees  he  bends  his  way 
To  late  repast,  (the  day’s  hard  labour  done,) 

So  to  Ulysses  welcome  set  the  sun; 

Then  instant  to  Alcinoiis  and  the  rest 

(The  Scherian  states)  he  turn’d,  and  thus  address’d: 

“  Oh,  thou,  the  first  in  merit  and  command  I 
And  you,  the  peers  and  princes  of  the  land! 

May  every  joy  be  yours !  nor  this  the  least. 

When  due  libation  shall  have  crown’d  the  feast,  50 

Safe  to  my  home  to  send  your  happy  guest. 

Complete  are  now  the  bounties  you  have  given. 

Be  all  those  bounties  but  confirm’d  by  Heaven! 

So  may  I  find,  when  all  my  wanderings  cease. 

My  consort  blameless,  and  my  friends  in  peace. 

On  you  be  every  bliss ;  and  every  day. 

In  home-felt  joys,  delighted  roll  away : 

Yourselves,  your  wives,  your  long-descending  race, 

May  every  god  enrich  with  every  grace ! 


222 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XIII. 


Sure  fix’d  on  virtue  may  your  nation  stand,  60 

And  public  evil  never  touch  the  land !” 

His  words,  well  weigh'd,  the  general  voice  approved 
Benign,  and  instant  his  dismission  moved. 

The  monarch  to  Pontinus  gave  the  sign. 

To  fill  the  goblet  high  with  rosy  wine : 

‘‘Great  Jove  the  Father,  first,”  he  cried,  “implore: 

Then  send  the  stranger  to  his  native  shore.” 

The  luscious  wine  th’  obedient  herald  brought: 

Around  the  mansion  flow'd  the  purple  draught: 

Each  from  his  seat  to  each  immortal  pours,  70 

Whom  glory  circles  in  th’  Olympian  bowers. 

Ulysses  sole  with  air  majestic  stands. 

The  bowl  presenting  to  Arete’s  hands ; 

Then  thus:  “O  queen,  farewell!  be  still  possess’d 
Of  dear  remembrance,  blessing  still,  and  bless’d. 

Till  age  and  death  shall  gently  call  thee  hence, 

(Sure  fate  of  every  mortal  excellence !) 

Farewell  1  and  joys  successive  ever  spring 
To  thee,  to  thine,  the  people,  and  the  king  1” 

Thus  he;  then,  parting,  prints  the  sandy  shore  80 
To  the  fair  port:  a  herald  march’d  before, 

Sent  by  Alcinoiis ;  of  Arete’s  train 
Three  chosen  maids  attend  him  to  the  main; 

This  does  a  tunic  and  white  vest  convey, 

A  various  casket  that,  of  rich  inlay. 

And  bread  and  wine  the  third.  The  cheerful  mates 
Safe  in  the  hollow  poop  dispose  the  cates: 

Upon  the  deck  soft  painted  robes  they  spread. 

With  linen  cover’d,  for  the  hero’s  bed. 

He  climb’d  the  lofty  stern;  then  gently  press’d  90 

The  swelling  couch,  and  lay  composed  to  rest. 

Now  placed  in  order,  the  Phseacian  train 
Their  cables  loose,  and  launch  into  the  main: 

At  once  they  bend,  and  strike  their  equal  oars. 

And  leave  the  sinking  hills  and  lessening  shores. 

While  on  the  deck  the  chief  in  silence  lies, 

And  pleasing  slumbers  steal  upon  his  eyes. 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XIII.  223 

As  fiery  coursers  in  the  rapid  race, 

Urged  by  fierce  drivers  through  the  dusty  space, 

Toss  their  high  heads,  and  scour  along  the  plain,  100 
So  mounts  the  bounding  vessel  o’er  the  main. 

Back  to  the  stern  the  parted  billows  flow. 

And  the  black  ocean  foams  and  roars  below. 

Thus  with  spread  sails  the  winged  galley  flies; 

Less  swift  an  eagle  cuts  the  liquid  skies ; 

Divine  Ulysses  was  her  sacred  load, 

A  man  in  wisdom  equal  to  a  god ! 

Much  danger,  long  and  mighty  toils  he  bore,  ^ 

In  storms  by  sea,  and  combats  on  the  shore: 

All  which  soft  sleep  now  banish’d  fi’om  his  breast,  110 
Wrapt  in  a  pleasing,  deep,  and  death-like  rest. 

But  when  the  morning-star  with  early  ray 
Flamed  in  the  front  of  heaven,  and  promised  day ; 

Like  distant  clouds  the  mariner  descries 
Fair  Ithaca’s  emerging  hills  arise. 

Far  from  the  town  a  spacious  port  appears. 

Sacred  to  Phorcys’  power,  whose  name  it  bears ; 

Two  craggy  rocks,  projecting  to  the  main. 

The  roaring  winds  tempestuous  to  restrain; 

Within,  the  waves  in  softer  murmurs  glide,  120 

And  ships  secure  without  their  halsers  ride. 

High  at  the  head,  a  branching  olive  grows. 

And  crowns  the  pointed  cliffs  with  shady  boughs. 
Beneath,  a  gloomy  grotto’s  cool  recess 
Delights  the  Nereids  of  the  neighbouring  seas. 

Where  bowls  and  urns  were  form’d  of  living  stone. 

And  massy  beams  in  native  marble  shone ; 

On  which  the  labours  of  the  nymph  were  roll’d. 

Their  webs  divine  of  purple  mix’d  with  gold. 

Within  the  cave  the  clustering  bees  attend  130 

Their  waxen  works,  or  from  the  roof  depend. 

Perpetual  waters  o’er  the  pavement  glide: 

Two  marble  doors  unfold  on  either  side; 

Sacred  the  south,  by  which  the  gods  descend ; 

But  mortals  enter  at  the  northern  end. 


224  the  odyssey,  book  XIII. 

Thither  they  bent,  and  haul  their  ship  to  land,  ^ 

(The  crooked  keel  divides  the  yellow  sand;) 

Ulysses,  sleeping  on  his  couch,  they  bore. 

And  gently  placed  him  on  the  rocky  shore. 

His  treasures  next,  Alcinoiis’  gifts,  they  laid  140 

In  the  wild  olive’s  unfrequented  shade. 

Secure  from  theft;  then  launch’d  the  bark  again. 

Resumed  their  oars,  and  measured  back  the  main. 

Nor  yet  forgot  old  Ocean’s  dread  supreme 
The  vengeance  vow’d  for  eyeless  Polypheme. 

Before  the  throne  of  mighty  Jove  he  stood; 

And  sought  the  secret  counsels  of  the  god : 

“Shall  then  no  more,  oh,  sire  of  gods!  be  mine 
The  rights  and  honours  of  a  power  divine? 

Scorn  d  ev’n  by  man,  and  (oh,  severe  disgrace  I)  ]  50 
By  soft  Phmacians,  my  degenerate  race  1 
Against  yon  destined  head  in  vain  I  swore, 

And  menaced  vengeance,  ere  he  reached  his  shore ; 

To  reach  his  native  shore  was  thy  decree; 

Mild  I  obey’d;  for  who  shall  war  with  thee? 

Behold  him  landed,  careless,  and  asleep. 

From  all  th’  eluded  dangers  of  the  deep; 

Lo,  where  he  lies,  amidst  a  shining  store 
Of  brass,  rich  garments,  and  refulgent  ore ; 

And  bears  triumphant  to  his  native  isle  160 

A  prize  more  worth  than  Ilion’s  noble  spoil.” 

To  whom  the  Father  of  th’  immortal  powers. 

Who  swells  the  clouds,  and  gladdens  earth  with  showers: 

“Can  mighty  Neptune  thus  of  man  complain? 

Neptune,  tremendous  o’er  the  boundless  main ! 

Revered  and  awful  ev’n  in  heaven’s  abodes. 

Ancient  and  great !  a  god  above  the  gods  I 
If  that  low  race  offend  thy  power  divine, 

(W^eak,  daring  creatures  1)  is  not  vengeance  thine  ? 

Go,  then,  the  guilty  at  thy  will  chastise.” 

He  said.  The  Shaker  of  the  earth  replies: 

“This  then  I  doom:  to  fix  the  gallant  ship, 

A  mark  of  vengeance,  on  the  sable  deep ; 


170 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XIII. 


225 


To  warn  the  thoughtless,  self-confiding  train, 

No  more  unlicensed  thus  to  brave  the  main. 

Full  in  their  port  a  shady  hill  shall  rise. 

If  such  thy  will.” — “We  will  it,”  Jove  replies. 

“Even  when  with  transport  blackening  all  the  strand. 

The  swarming  people  hail  their  ship  to  land. 

Fix  her  for  ever,  a  memorial  stone:  180 

Still  let  her  seem  to  sail,  and  seem  alone : 

The  trembling  crowds  shall  see  the  sudden  shade 
Of  whelming  mountains  overhang  their  head !” 

With  that,  the  god  whose  earthquakes  rock  the  ground. 
Fierce  to  Phseacia  cross’d  the  vast  profound. 

Swift  as  a  swallow  sweeps  the  liquid  way, 

The  winged  pinnace  shot  along  the  sea. 

The  god  arrests  her  with  a  sudden  stroke. 

And  roots  her  down,  an  everlasting  rock. 

Aghast  the  Scherians  stand  in  deep  surprise;  190 

All  press  to  speak,  all  question  with  their  eyes. 

What  hands  unseen  the  rapid  bark  restrain? 

And  yet  it  swims,  or  seems  to  swim,  the  main! 

Thus  they,  unconscious  of  the  deed  divine: 

Till  great  Alcinoiis,  rising,  own’d  the  sign: 

“Behold  the  long-predestined  day!”  he  cries; 

“Oh,  certain  faith  of  ancient  prophecies! 

These  ears  have  heard  my  royal  sire  disclose 
A  dreadful  story,  big  with  future  woes; 

How,  moved  with  wrath,  that  careless  we  convey  200 
Promiscuous  every  guest  to  every  bay. 

Stern  Neptune  raged;  and  how  by  his  command 
Firm  rooted  in  the  surge  a  ship  should  stand, 

(A  monument  of  wrath;)  and  mound  on  mound 
Should  hide  our  walls,  or  whelm  beneath  the  grouna. 

The  Fates  have  follow’d  as  declared  the  seer. 

Be  humbled,  nations!  and  your  monarch  hear: 

No  more  unlicensed  brave  the  deeps ;  no  more 
With  every  stranger  pass  from  shore  to  shore: 

On  angry  Neptune  now  for  mercy  call; 

To  his  high  name  let  twelve  black  oxen  fall. 

10*  P 


210 


226  the  odyssey,  book  XIII. 

So  may  the  god  reverse  his  purposed  will, 

Nor  o’er  our  city  hang  the  dreadful  hill.” 

The  monarch  spoke:  they  trembled  and  obey’d. 

Forth  on  the  sands  the  victim  oxen  led: 

The  gather’d  tribes  before  the  altars  stand, 

And  chiefs  and  rulers,  a  majestic  band. 

The  king  of  ocean  all  the  tribes  implore; 

The  blazing  altars  redden  all  the  shore. 

Meanwhile,  Ulysses  in  his  country  lay,  220 

Released  from  sleep,  and  round  him  might  survey 
The  solitary  shore  and  rolling  sea. 

Yet  had  his  mind  through  tedious  absence  lost 
The  dear  remembrance  of  his  native  coast; 

Besides,  Minerva,  to  secure  her  care. 

Diffused  around  a  veil  of  thickened  air: 

For  so  the  gods  ordain’d,  to  keep  unseen 
His  royal  person  from  his  friends  and  queen; 

Till  the  proud  suitors  for  their  crimes  afford 
An  ample  vengeance  to  their  injured  lord.  230 

Now  all  the  land  another  prospect  bore. 

Another  port  appear’d,  another  shore. 

And  long-continued  ways,  and  winding  floods. 

And  unknown  mountains,  crown’d  with  unknown  woods. 
Pensive  and  slow,  with  sudden  grief  oppress’d. 

The  king  arose,  and  beat  his  careful  breast. 

Cast  a  long  look  o’er  all  the  coast  and  main. 

And  sought,  around,  his  native  realm  in  vain: 

Then  with  erected  eyes  stood  fix’d  in  wo. 

And,  as  he  spoke,  the  tears  began  to  flow:  240 

“Ye  gods!”  he  cried^“upon  what  barren  coast, 

In  what  new  region,  is  Ulysses  toss’d? 

Possess’d  by  wild  barbarians,  fierce  in  arms, 

Or  men  whose  bosom  tender  pity  warms? 

Where  shall  this  treasure  now  in  safety  lie. 

And  whither,  whither  its  sad  owner  fly? 

Ah!  why  did  I  Alcinous’  grace  implore? 

Ah!  why  forsake  Phoeacia’s  happy  shore? 

Some  juster  prince  perhaps  had  entertain’d, 

And  safe  restored  me  to  mv  native  land. 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XIII. 


227 


Is  this  the  promised,  long-expected  coast, 

And  this  the  faith  Pheeacia’s  rulers  boast? 

Oh,  righteous  gods !  of  all  the  great,  how  few 
Are  just  to  Heaven,  and  to  their  promise  true ! 

But  He,  the  power  to  whose  all-seeing  eyes 
The  deeds  of  men  appear  without  disguise, 

’Tis  His  alone  t’  avenge  the  wrongs  I  bear; 

For  still  the  oppress’d  are  His  peculiar  care. 

To  count  these  presents,  and  from  thence  to  prove 
Their  faith,  is  mine:  the  rest  belongs  to  Jove.” 

Then  on  the  sands  he  ranged  his  wealthy  store, 
The  gold,  the  vests,  the  tripods,  number’d  o’er: 

All  these  he  found ;  but,  still  in  error  lost, 
Disconsolate  he  wanders  on  the  coast. 

Sighs  for  his  country,  and  laments  again 
To  the  deaf  rocks  and  hoarse  resounding  main. 


When,  lo !  the  guardian  goddess  of  the  wise. 

Celestial  Pallas,  stood  before  his  eyes : 

In  show  a  youthful  swain,  of  form  divine, 

W^ho  seem’d  descended  from  some  princely  line.  27 
A  graceful  robe  her  slender  body  dress’d : 

Around  her  shoulders  flew  the  waving  vest. 

Her  decent  hand  a  shining  javelin  bore, 

And  painted  sandals  on  her  feet  she  wore. 

To  whom  the  king:  “Whoe’er  of  human  race 
Thou  art,  that  wander’st  in  this  desert  place ! 

With  joy  to  thee,  as  to  some  god,  I  bend, 

To  thee  my  treasures  and  myself  commend. 

Oh!  tell  a  wretch  in  exile  doom’d  to  stray. 

What  air  I  breathe,  what  country  I  survey?  28 

The  fruitful  continent’s  extremest  bound, 

Or  some  fair  isle  which  Neptune’s  arms  surround?” 

“From  what  fair  clime,”  said  she,  “remote  from  fame, 
Arriv’st  thou  here  a  stranger  to  our  name? 

Thou  seest  an  island,  not  to  those  unknown 
Whose  hills  are  brighten’d  by  the  rising  sun. 

Nor  those  that,  placed  beneath  his  utmost  reign. 

Behold  him  sinking  in  the  western  main. 


228 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XIII. 


The  rugged  soil  allows  no  level  space, 

For  flying  chariots  or  the  rapid  race:  290 

Yet,  not  ungrateful  to  the  peasant’s  pain. 

Suffices  fullness  to  the  swelling  grain: 

The  loaded  trees  their  various  fruits  produce. 

And  clustering  grapes  afford  a  generous  juice: 

Woods  crown  our  mountains,  and  in  every  grove 
The  bounding  goats  and  frisking  heifers  rove: 

Soft  rains  and  kindly  dews  refresh  the  field. 

And  rising  springs  eternal  verdure  yield. 

Ev’n  to  those  shores  is  Ithaca  renown’d. 

Where  Troy’s  majestic  ruins  strew  the  ground.”  300 
At  this  the  chief  with  transport  was  possess’d. 

His  panting  heart  exulting  in  his  breast: 

Yet,  well  dissembling  his  untimely  joys. 

And  veiling  truth  in  plausible  disguise. 

Thus,  with  an  air  sincere,  in  fiction  bold,  - 

His  ready  tale  th’  inventive  hero  told: 

“Oft  have  I  heard  in  Crete  this  island’s  name: 

For ’twas  from  Crete,  my  native  soil,  I  came: 

Self-banish’d  thence.  I  sail’d  before  the  wind. 

And  left  my  children  and  my  friends  behind;  310 

From  fierce  Idomeneus’  revenge  I  flew, 

Whose  son,  the  swift  Orsilochus,  I  slew. 

(With  brutal  force  he  seized  my  Trojan  prey. 

Due  to  the  toils  of  many  a  bloody  day.) 

Unseen  I  ’scaped;  and,  favour’d  by  the  night. 

In  a  Phoenician  vessel  took  my  flight. 

For  Pyle  or  Elis  bound:  but  tempests  toss’d. 

And  raging  billows  drove  us  on  your  coast. 

In  dead  of  night  an  unknown  port  we  gain’d. 

Spent  with  fatigue,  and  slept  secure  on  land.  .  320 

But  ere  the  rosy  morn  renew’d  the  day. 

While  in  th’  embrace  of  pleasing  sleep  I  lay. 

Sudden,  invited  by  auspicious  gales. 

They  land  my  goods,  and  hoist  their  flying  sails. 
Abandon’d  here,  my  fortune  I  deplore, 

A  hapless  exile  on  a  foreign  shore.” 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XIII. 


229 


Thus  while  he  spoke  the  blue-eyed  maid  began, 

With  pleasing  smiles,  to  view  the  godlike  man: 

Then  changed  her  form :  and  now,  divinely  bright, 

Jove’s  heavenly  daughter  stood  confess’d  to  sight;  330 
Like  a  fair  virgin  in  her  beauty’s  bloom. 

Skill’d  in  th’  illustrious  labours  of  the  loom. 

‘‘Oh,  still  the  same  Ulysses!”  she  rejoin’d, 

“In  useful  craft  successfully  refined! 

Artful  in  speech,  in  action,  and  in  mind! 

Sufficed  it  not,  that,  thy  long  labours  past. 

Secure  thou  seest  thy  native  shore  at  last? 

But  this  to  me?  who,  like  thyself,  excel 
In  arts  of  counsel,  and  dissembling  well; 

To  me?  whose  wit  exceeds  the  powers  divine,  340 

No  less  than  mortals  are  surpass’d  by  thine? 

Know’st  thou  not  me?  who  made  thy  life  my  care. 

Thro’  ten  years’  wandering,  and  thro’  ten  years’  wai , 
Who  taught  thee  arts,  Alcinoiis  to  persuade, 

To  raise  his  wonder,  and  engage  his  aid; 

And  now  appear,  thy  treasures  to  protect, 

Conceal  thy  person,  thy  designs  direct, 

And  tell  what  more  thou  must  from  Fate  expect: 

Domestic  woes  far  heavier  to  be  borne ! 

The  pride  of  fools,  and  slaves’  insulting  scorn.  350 

But  thou  be  silent,  nor  reveal  thy  state; 

Yield  to  the  force  of  unresisted  fate, 

And  bear  unmoved  the  wrongs  of  base  mankind, 

The  last,  and  hardest,  conquest  of  the  mind.” 

“Goddess  of  wisdom!”  Ithacus  replies, 

“He  who  discerns  thee  must  be  truly  wise. 

So  seldom  view’d,  and  ever  in  disguise ! 

When  the  bold  Argives  led  their  warring  powers. 

Against  proud  Ilion’s  well-defended  towers, 

Ulysses  was  thy  care,  celestial  maid !  360 

Graced  with  thy  sight,  and  favour’d  with  thy  aid : 

But  when  the  Trojan  piles  in  ashes  lay. 

And  bound  for  Greece  we  plough’d  the  watery  way; 

Our  fleet  dispersed,  and  driven  from  coast  to  coast. 

Thy  sacred  presence  from  that  hour  I  lost; 


230 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XIII. 


Till  I  beheld  thy  radiant  form  once  more, 

And  heard  thy  counsels  on  Phseacia’s  shore. 

But,  by  th’  almighty  Author  of  thy  race. 

Tell  me,  oh  tell,  is  this  my  native  place? 

For  much  I  fear,  long  tracts  of  land  and  sea  370 

Divide  this  coast  from  distant  Ithaca; 

The  sweet  delusion  kindly  you  impose. 

To  soothe  my  hopes,  and  mitigate  my  woes.” 

Thus  he.  The  blue-eyed  goddess  thus  replies: 

“How  prone  to  doubt,  how  cautious  are  the  wise! 

Who,  versed  in  fortune,  fear  the  flattering  show, 

And  taste  not  half  the  bliss  the  gods  bestow. 

The  more  shall  Pallas  aid  thy  just  desires. 

And  guard  the  wisdom  which  herself  inspires. 

Others,  long  absent  from  their  native  place,  380 

Straight  seek  their  home,  and  fly  with  eager  pace 
To  their  wives’  arms,  and  children’s  dear  embrace. 

Not  thus  Ulysses:  he  decrees  to  prove 

His  subjects’  faith,  and  queen’s  suspected  love; 

Who  mourn’d  her  lord  twice  ten  revolving  years. 

And  wastes  the  days  in  grief,  the  nights  in  tears. 

But  Pallas  knew  (thy  friends  and  navy  lost)  • 

Once  more  ’twas  given  thee  to  behold  thy  coast: 

Yet  how  could  I  with  adverse  Fate  engage. 

And  mighty  Neptune’s  unrelenting  rage?  290 

Now  lift  thy  longing  eyes,  while  I  restore 
The  pleasing  prospect  of  thy  native  shore. 

Behold  the  port  of  Phorcys !  fenced  around 
With  rocky  mountains,  and  with  olives  crown’d: 

Behold  the  gloomy  grot!  whose  cool  recess 
Delights  the  Nereids  of  the  neighbouring  seas: 

Whose  now-neglected  altars  in  thy  reign 
Blush’d  with  the  blood  of  sheep  and  oxen  slain. 

Behold!  where  Neritos  the  clouds  divides. 

And  shakes  the  waving  forests  on  his  sides.”  400 

So  spake  the  goddess;  and  the  prospect  clear’d, 

The  mists  dispersed,  and  all  the  coast  appear’d. 

The  king  with  joy  confess’d  his  place  of  birth. 

And  on  his  knees  salutes  his  mother-earth; 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XIII. 

Then,  with  his  suppliant  hands  upheld  in  air, 

Thus  to  the  sea-green  sisters  sends  his  prayer: 

“All  hail!  ye  virgin  daughters  of  the  main! 

Ye  streams,  beyond  my  hopes  beheld  again! 

To  you  once  more  your  own  Ulysses  bows. 

Attend  his  transports,  and  receive  his  vows! 

If  Jove  prolong  my  days,  and  Pallas  crown 
The  growing  virtues  of  my  youthful  son, 

To  you  shall  rites  divine  be  ever  paid. 

And  grateful  offerings  on  your  altars  laid.” 

Then  thus  Minerva:  “From  that  anxious  breast 
Dismiss  those  cares,  and  leave  to  Heaven  the  rest. 

Our  task  be  now  thy  treasured  stores  to  save. 

Deep  in  the  close  recesses  of  the  cave: 

Then  future  means  consult.” — She  spoke,  and  trod 
The  shady  grot,  that  brighten’d  with  the  god.  420 

The  closest  caverns  of  the  grot  she  sought; 

The  gold,  the  brass,  the  robes,  Ulysses  brought: 

These  in  the  secret  gloom  the  chief  disposed; 

The  entrance  with  a  rock  the  goddess  closed. 

Now,  seated  in  the  olive’s  sacred  shade. 

Confer  the  hero  and  the  martial  maid. 

The  goddess  of  the  azure  eyes  began: 

“Son  of  Laertes!  much-experienced  man! 

The  suitoi'-train  thy  earliest  care  demand. 

Of  that  luxurious  race  to  rid  the  land:  430 

Three  years  thy  house  their  lawless  rule  has  seen. 

And  proud  addresses  to  the  matchless  queen. 

But  she  thy  absence  mourns  from  day  to  day. 

And  inly  bleeds,  and  silent  wastes  away: 

Elusive  of  the  bridal-hour ,^he  gives  * 

Fond  hopes  to  all,  and  all  with  hopes  deceives.” 

To  this  Ulysses:  “Oh,  celestial  maid! 

Praised  be  thy  counsel,  and  thy  timely  aid: 

Else  had  I  seen  my  native  walls  in  vain,  < 

Like  great  Atrides,  just  restored  and  slain.  440 

Vouchsafe  the  means  of  vengeance  to  debate. 

And  plan  with  all  thy  arts  the  scene  of  fate: 


231 


410 


232 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XIII. 


Then,  then  be  present,  and  my  soul  inspire. 

As  when  we  wrapt  Troy’s  heaven-built  walls  in  fire 
Though  leagued  against  me  hundred  heroes  stand, 

Hundreds  shall  fall,  if  Pallas  aid  my  hand.” 

She  answer’d:  “In  the  dreadful  day  of  fight 
Know,  I  am  with  thee,  strong  in  all  my  might, 

If  thou  but  equal  to  thyself  be  found, 

What  gasping  numbers  then  shall  press  the  ground !  450 

What  human  victims  stain  the  feastful  floor! 

How  wide  the  pavements  float  with  guilty  gore ! 

It  fits  thee  now  to  wear  a  dark  disguise, 

And  secret  walk  unknown  to  mortal  eyes. 

For  this,  my  hand  shall  wither  every  grace 
And  every  elegance  of  form  and  face. 

O’er  thy  smooth  skin  a  bark  of  wrinkles  spread, 

Turn  hoar  the  auburn  honours  of  thy  head; 

Disfigure  every  limb  with  coarse  attire. 

And  in  thy  eyes  extinguish  all  the  fire ;  460 

Add  all  the  wants  and  the  decays  of  life; 

Estrange  thee  from  thy  own;  thy  son,  thy  wife; 

From  the  loathed  object  every  sight  shall  turn, 

And  the  blind  suitors  their  destruction  scorn. 

Go  first  the  master  of  thy  herds  to  And, 

True  to  his  charge,  a  loyal  swain  and  kind. 

For  thee  he  sighs:  and  to  the  royal  heir 
And  chaste  Penelop4  extends  his  care. 

At  the  Coracian  rock  he  now  resides, 

Where  Arethusa’s  sable  water  glides;  470 

The  sable  water  and  the  copious  mast 
Swell  the  fat  herd;  luxuriant,  large  repast! 

With  him  rest  peaceful  in  the  rural  cell. 

And  all  you  ask  his  faithful  tongue  shall  tell.. 

Me  into  other  realms  my  cares  convey, 

To  Sparta,  still  with  female  beauty  gay; 

For  know,  to  Sparta  thy  loved  offspring  came, 

To  learn  thy  fortunes  from  the  voice  of  Fame.” 

At  this,  the  father,  with  a  father’s  care: 

“Must  he  too  suffer?  he,  oh  goddess!  bear  480 

Of  wanderings  and  of  woes  a  wretched  share?  1 


233 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XIII. 

Through  the  wild  ocean  plough  the  dangerous  way. 

And  leave  his  fortunes  and  his  house  a  prey? 

Why  would’st  not  thou,  oh,  all-enlighten’d  mind! 

Inform  him  certain,  and  protect  him,  kind?” 

To  whom  Minerva:  “Be  thy  soul  at  rest; 

And  know,  whatever  Heaven  ordains,  is  best. 

To  Fame  I  sent  him,  to  acquire  renown; 

To  other  regions  is  his  virtue  known: 

Secure  he  sits,  near  great  Atrides  placed ;  490 

M  ith  friendship  strengthen’d;  and  with  honours  graced. 
But,  lo!  an  ambush  waits  his  passage  o’er; 

Fierce  foes  insidious  intercept  the  shore; 

In  vain:  far  sooner  all  the  murderous  brood 
This  injured  land  shall  fatten  with  their  blood.” 

She  spake;  then  touch’d  him  with  her  powerful  wand: 
The  skin  shrunk  up,  and  wither’d  at  her  hand ; 

A  swift  old  age  o’er  all  his  members  spread; 

A  sudden  frost  was  sprinkled  on  his  head; 

No  longer  in  the  heavy  eye-ball  shined  500 

The  glance  divine,  forth-beaming  from  the  mind. 

His  robe,  which  spots  indelible  besmear, 

In  rags  dishonest  flutters  with  the  air: 

A  stag  s  torn  hide  is  lapp’d  around  his  reins : 

A  rugged  staff  his  trembling  hand  sustains; 

And  at  his  side  a  wretched  scrip  was  hung, 

Wide  patch’d  and  knotted  to  a  twisted  thong. 

So  look’d  the  chief,  so  moved:  to  mortal  eyes 
Object  uncouth  I  a  man  of  miseries  1 
While  Pallas,  cleaving  the  wide  fields  of  air. 

To  Sparta  flies,  Teleraachus  her  care. 


510 


i 


BOOK  XIV. 


The  Meeting  and  Conversation  with  Eumwus. 


Argument. — Ulysses  arrives  in  disguise  at  the  house  of  Eumseus,  where  he 
is  received,  entertained,  and  lodged  with  the  utmost  hospitality.  The 
several  discourses  of  that  faithful  old  servant,  with  the  feigned  story  told 
by  Ulysses  to  conceal  himself,  and  other  conversations  on  various  subjects, 
take  up  this  entire  book. 

But  he,  deep-musing,  o’er  the  mountains  stray’d 
Through  mazy  thickets  of  the  woodland  shade, 

And  cavern’d  ways,  the  shaggy  coast  along, 

-With  cliffs  and  nodding  forests  overhung. 

Eumteus  at  his  sylvan  lodge  he  sought, 

A  faithful  servant,  and  without  a  fault. 

Ulysses  found  him  busied  as  he  sate 
Before  the  threshold  of  his  rustic  gate; 

Around  the  mansion  in  a  circle  shone 

A  rural  portico  of  rugged  stone;  10 

(In  absence  of  his  lord,  with  honest  toil 

His  own  industrious  hands  had  raised  the  pile.) 

The  wall  was  stone,  from  neighbouring  quarries  borne, 
Encircled  with  a  fence  of  native  thorn, 

And  strong  with  pales,  by  many  a  weary  stroke 
Of  stubborn  labour,  hewn  from  heart  of  oak: 

Frequent  and  thick.  Within  the  space  were  rear’d 
Twelve  ample  cells,  the  lodgement  of  his  herd. 

Full  fifty  pregnant  females  each  contain’d; 

The  males  without  (a  smaller  race)  remain’d ;  20 

Doom’d  to  supply  the  suitor’s  wasteful  feast, 

A  stock  by  daily  luxury  decreased ; 

Now  scarce  four  hundred  left.  These  to  defend, 

Four  savage  dogs,  a  watchful  guard,  attend. 

Here  sate  Eumseus,  and  his  cares  applied 
To  form  strong  buskins  of  well-season’d  hide. 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XIV.  235 

Of  four  assistants,  who  his  labour  share, 

Three  now  w^ere  absent  on  the  rural  care ; 

The  fourth  drove  victims  to  the  suitor-train: 

But  he,  of  ancient  faith,  a  simple  swain,  30 

Sigh’d  while  he  furnish’d  the  luxurious  board. 

And  wearied  Heaven  with  wishes  for  his  lord. 

Soon  as  Ulysses  near  th’  enclosure  drew. 

With  open  mouths  the  furious  mastiffs  flew: 

Down  sate  the  sage,  and  cautious  to  withstand. 

Let  fall  th’  offensive  truncheon  from  his  hand. 

Sudden  the  master  runs;  aloud  he  calls; 

And  from  his  hasty  hand  the  leather  falls; 

With  showers  of  stones  he  drives  them  far  away; 

The  scattering  dogs  around  at  distance  bay.  40 

“Unhappy  stranger!”  (thus  the  faithful  swain 
Began  with  accents  gracious  and  humane) 

“  What  sorrow  had  been  mine,  if  at  my  gate 
Thy  reverend  age  had  met  a  shameful  fate ! 

Enough  of  woes  already  have  I  known; 

Enough  my  master’s  sorrows  and  my  own. 

While  here — ungrateful  task ! — his  herds  I  feed. 

Ordain’d  for  lawless  rioters  to  bleed; 

Perhaps,  supported  at  another’s  board, 

Far  from  his  country  roams  my  hapless  lord!  50 

Or  sigh’d  in  exile  forth  his  latest  breath. 

Now  cover’d  with  th’  eternal  shade  of  death! 

But  enter  this  my  homely  roof,  and  see 
Our  woods  not  void  of  hospitality. 

Then  tell  me  whence  thou  art,  and  what  the  share 
Of  woes  and  wanderings  thou  wert  born  to  bear?” 

He  said;  and,  seconding  the  kind  request, 

With  friendly  steps  precedes  his  unknown  guest. 

A  shaggy  goat’s  soft  hide  beneath  him  spread, 

And  with  fresh  rushes  heap’d  an  ample  bed:  60 

Joy  touch’d  the  hero’s  tender  soul,  to  find 
So  just  reception  from  a  heart  so  kind : 

And,  “Oh,  ye  gods!  with  all  your  blessings  grace,” 

He  thus  broke  forth,  “this  friend  of  human  race!” 


236 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XIV. 


The  swain  replied:  “It  never  was  our  guise 
To  slight  the  poor,  or  aught  humane  despise; 

For  Jove  unfolds  our  hospitable  door, 

'Tis  Jove  that  sends  the  stranger  and  the  poor. 

Little,  alas!  is  all  the  good  I  can; 

A  man  oppress’d,  dependent,  yet  a  man:  70 

Accept  such  treatment  as  a  swain  affords. 

Slave  to  the  insolence  of  youthful  lords! 

Far  hence  is  by  unequal  gods  removed 
That  man  of  bounties,  loving  and  beloved! 

To  whom  whate’er  his  slave  enjoys  is  owed. 

And  more,  had  Fate  allow’d,  had  been  bestow’d: 

But  Fate  condemn’d  him  to  a  foreign  shore; 

Much  have  I  sorrow’d,  but  my  master  more. 

Now  cold  he  lies,  to  death’s  embrace  resign’d: 

Ah,  perish  Helen!  perish  all  her  kind!  80 

For  whose  cursed  cause,  in  Agamemnon’s  name. 

He  trod  so  fatally  the  paths  of  Fame.” 

His  vest  succinct  then  girding  round  his  waist, 

Forth  rush’d  the  swain  with  hospitable  haste. 

Straight  to  the  lodgements  of  his  herd  he  run. 

Where  the  fat  porkers  slept  beneath  the  sun: 

Of  two,  his  cutlass  lanced  th@  spouting  blood; 

These  quarter’d,  singed,  and  fix’d  on  forks  of  wood, 

All  hasty  on  the  hissing  coals  he  threw; 

And,  smoking,  back  the  tasteful  viands  drew,  90 

Broachers  and  all ;  then  on  the  board  display’d 

The  ready  meal,  before  Ulysses  laid 

With  flour  imbrown’d;  next  mingled  wine  yet  new, 

And  luscious  as  the  bees’  nectareous  dew: 

Then  sate  companion  of  the  friendly  feast. 

With  open  look;  and  thus  bespoke  his  guest: 

“Take  with  free  welcome  what  our  hands  prepare, 
Such  food  as  falls  to  simple  servants’  share; 

The  best  our  lords  consume;  those  thoughtless  peers. 

Rich  without  bounty,  guilty  without  fears;  100 

Yet  sure  the  gods  their  impious  acts  detest. 

And  honour  justice  and  the  righteous  breast. 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XIV. 


237 


|| 

j  Pirates  and  conquerors  of  harden’d  mind, 
i'  The  foes  of  peace,  and  scourges  of  mankind, 

!  To  whom  offending  men  are  made  a  prey 
When  Jove  in  vengeance  gives  a  land  away: 

Ev’n  these,  when  of  their  ill-got  spoils  possess’d, 

I  Find  sure  tormentors  in  the  guilty  breast: 

I  Some  voice  of  God  close  whispering  from  within, 
‘Wretch!  this  is  villany,  and  this  is  sin.’  110 

But  these,  no  doubt,  some  oracle  explore. 

That  tells  the  great  Ulysses  is  no  more. 

Hence  springs  their  confidence,  and  from  our  sighs 
Their  rapine  strengthens,  and  their  riots  rise: 

I  Constant  as  Jove  the  night  and  day  bestows, 
j  Bleeds  a  whole  hecatomb,  a  vintage  flows. 

None  match’d  this  hero’s  wealth,  of  all  who  reign 
I  O’er  the  fair  islands  of  the  neighbouring  main. 

Nor  all  the  monarchs  whose  far-dreaded  sway 
'  The  wide-extended  continents  obey:  120 

First,  on  the  main-land,  of  Ulysses’  breed. 

Twelve  herds,  twelve  flocks,  on  ocean’s  margin  feed; 

I  As  many  stalls  for  shaggy  goats  are  rear’d: 

I  As  many  lodgements  for  the  tusky  herd; 

Those  foreign  keepers  guard:  and  here  are  seen 
Twelve  herds  of  goats  that  graze  our  utmost  green; 

To  native  pastors  is  their  charge  assign’d. 

And  mine  the  care  to  feed  the  bristly  kind: 

Each  day  the  fattest  bleeds  of  either  herd, 
i  All  to  the  suitors’  wasteful  board  preferr’d.”  130 

I  Thus  he,  benevolent.  His  unknown  guest 
With  hunger  keen  devours  the  savoury  feast ; 

While  schemes  of  vengeance  ripen  in  his  breast. 

Silent  and  thoughtful  while  the  board  he  eyed, 

|i  Eumseus  pours  on  high  the  purple  tide; 

The  king  with  smiling  looks  his  joy  express’d. 

And  thus  the  kind,  inviting  host  address’d: 

“Say  now,  what  man  is  he,  the  man  deplored, 

‘  So  rich,  so  potent,  whom  you  style  your  lord? 

]  Late  with  such  affluence  and  possessions  bless’d,  140 
And  now  in  honour’s  glorious  bed  at  rest? 


238 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XIV. 


Whoever  was  the  warrior,  he  must  be 
To  Fame  no  stranger,  nor  perhaps  to  me; 

Who  (so  the  gods  and  so  the  fates  ordain’d) 

H^ve  wander’d  many  a  sea  and  many  a  land.” 

“Small  is  the  faith  the  prince  and  queen  ascribe,” 
Replied  Eumseus,  “to  the  wandering  tribe. 

For  needy  strangers  still  to  flattery  fly. 

And  want  too  oft  betrays  the  tongue  to  lie. 

Each  vagrant  traveller,  that  touches  here,  150 

Deludes  with  fallacies  the  royal  ear. 

To  dear  remembrance  makes  his  image  rise, 

And  calls  the  springing  sorrows  from  her  eyes. 

Such  thou  may’st  be.  But  he  whose  name  you  crave 
Moulders  in  earth,  or  welters  on  the  wave. 

Or  food  for  fish  or  dogs  his  relics  lie, 

Or  torn  by  birds,  and  scatter’d  through  the  sky ; 

So  perish’d  he:  and  left  (for  ever  lost) 

Much  wo  to  all,  but  sure  to  me  the  most. 

So  mild  a  master  never  shall  I  find;  160 

Less  dear  the  parents  whom  I  left  behind ; 

Less  soft  my  mother,  less  my  father  kind. 

Not  with  such  transport  would  my  eyes  run  o’er. 

Again  to  hail  them  in  their  native  shore. 

As  loved  Ulysses  once  more  to  embrace. 

Restored  and  breathing  in  his  natal-place. 

That  name,  for  ever  dread,  yet  ever  dear, 

Ev’n  in  his  absence  I  pronounce  with  fear: 

In  my  respect,  he  bears  a  prince’s  part: 

But  lives  a  very  brother  in  my  heart.”  170 

Thus  spoke  the  faithful  swain,  and  thus  rejoin’d 
The  master  of  his  grief,  the  man  of  patient  mind: 

“Ulysses,  friend!  shall  view  his  old  abodes, 

(Distrustful  as  thou  art,)  nor  doubt  the  gods. 

Nor  speak  I  rashly,  but  with  faith  averr’d. 

And  what  I  speak  attesting  Heaven  has  heard. 

If  so,  a  cloak  and  vesture  be  my  meed: 

Till  his  return  no  title  shall  I  plead. 

Though  certain  be  my  news,  and  great  my  need. 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XIV. 


239 


Whom  want  itself  can  force  untruths  to  tell,  180 

My  soul  detests  him  as  the  gates  of  hell. 

Thou  first  be  witness,  hospitable  Jove, 

And  every  god  inspiring  social  love ! 

And  witness  every  household  power  that  waits 
Guard  of  these  fires,  and  angel  of  these  gates ! 

Ere  the  next  moon  increase,  or  this  decay. 

His  ancient  realms  Ulysses  shall  survey; 

In  blood  and  dust  each  proud  oppressor  mourn. 

And  the  lost  glories  of  his  house  return.” 

“Nor  shall  that  meed  be  thine,  nor  ever  more  190 
Shall  loved  Ulysses  hail  this  happy  shore,” 

Replied  Eumasus:  “to  the  present  hour 

Now  turn  thy  thought,  and  joys  within  our  power. 

I  From  sad  reflection  let  my  soul  repose ; 

The  name  of  him  awakes  a  thousand  woes. 

But  guard  him,  gods !  and  to  these  arms  restore  I 
Not  his  true  consort  can  desire  him  more ; 

Not  old  Laertes,  broken  with  despair; 

Not  young  Telemachus,  his  blooming  heir. 

Alas,  Telemachus !  my  sorrows  flow  200 

Afresh  for  thee,  my  second  cause  of  wo ! 

Like  some  fair  plant,  set  by  a  heavenly  hand. 

He  grew,  he  flourish’d,  and  he  bless’d  the  land; 

In  all  the  youth  his  father’s  image  shined. 

Bright  in  his  person,  brighter  in  his  mind. 

What  man,  or  god,  deceived  his  better  sense. 

Far  on  the  swelling  seas  to  wander  hence? 

To  distant  Pylos  hapless  is  he  gone. 

To  seek  his  father’s  fate,  and  find  his  own ! 

^  For  traitors  wait  his  way,  with  dire  design  210 

To  end  at  once  the  great  Arcesian  line. 

But  let  us  leave  him  to  their  wills  above ; 

I  The  fates  of  men  are  in  the  hand  of  Jove. 

I  And  now,  my  venerable  guest !  declare 
'  Your  name,  your  parents,  and  your  native  air; 

Sincere,  from  whence  begun  your  course  relate. 

And  to  what  ship  I  owe  the  friendly  freight?” 


240 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XIV. 


Thus  he :  and  thus,  with  prompt  invention  bold, 

The  cautious  chief  his  ready  story  told: 

“On  dark  reserve  what  better  can  prevail,  220 

Or  from  the  fluent  tongue  produce  the  tale, 

Than  when  two  friends,  alone,  in  peaceful  place 
Confer,  and  wines  and  cates  the  table  grace; 

But  most,  the  kind  inviter’s  cheerful  face? 

Thus  might  we  sit,  with  social  goblets  crowned. 

Till  the  whole  circle  of  the  year  goes  round; 

Not  the  whole  circle  of  the  year  would  close 
My  long  narration  of  a  life  of  woes. 

But  such  was  Heaven’s  high  will!  Know  then,  I  came 
From  sacred  Crete,  and  from  a  sire  of  fame:  230 

Castor  Hylacides,  (that  name  he  bore,) 

Beloved  and  honour’d  in  his  native  shore ; 

Bless’d  in  his  riches,  in  his  children  more. 

Sprung  of  a  handmaid,  from  a  bought  embrace, 

I  shared  his  kindness  with  his  lawful  race ; 

But  when  that  fate  which  all  must  undergo 
From  earth  removed  him  to  the  shades  below. 

The  large  domain  his  greedy  sons  divide. 

And  each  was  portion’d  as  the  lots  decide. 

Little,  alas  I  was  left  my  wretched  share,  240 

Except  a  house,  a  covert  from  the  air: 

But  what  by  niggard  Fortune  was  denied, 

A  willing  widow’s  copious  wealth  supplied. 

My  valour  was  my  plea,  a  gallant  mind 
That,  true  to  honour,  never  lagg’d  behind: 

(The  sex  is  ever  to  a  soldier  kind.) 

Now  wasting  years  my  former  strength  confound. 

And  added  woes  have  bow’d  me  to  the  ground ; 

Yet  by  the  stubble  you  may  guess  the  grain. 

And  mark  the  ruins  of  no  vulgar  man.  250 

Me,  Pallas  gave  to  lead  the  martial  storm. 

And  the  fair  ranks  of  battle  to  deform; 

Me,  Mars  inspired  to  turn  the  foe  to  flight. 

And  tempt  the  secret  ambush  of  the  night. 

Let  ghastly  Death  in  all  his  forms  appear, 

I  saw  him  not,  it  was  not  mine  to  fear. 


241 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XIV. 

Before  the  rest  I  raised  my  ready  steel ; 

The  first  I  met,  he  yielded  or  he  fell. 

But  works  of  peace  my  soul  disdain’d  to  bear, 

The  rural  labour,  or  domestic  care. 

To  laise  the  mast,  the  missile  dart  to  wing. 

And  send  swift  arrows  from  the  bounding  string. 

Were  arts  the  gods  made  grateful  to  my  mind ; 

Those  gods,  who  turn  (to  various  ends  design’d) 

The  various  thoughts  and  talents  of  mankind. 

Befoie  the  Grecians  touch’d  the  Trojan  plain. 

Nine  times  commander,  or  by  land  or  main. 

In  foreign  fields  I  spread  my  glory  far. 

Great  in  the  praise,  rich  in  the  spoils  of  war: 

Thence  charged  with  riches,  as  increased  in  fame,  270 
To  Crete  return’d,  an  honourable  name. 

But  when  great  Jove  that  direful  war  decreed. 

Which  roused  all  Greece,  and  made  the  mighty  bleed ; 
Our  states  myself  and  Idomen  employ 
To  lead  their  fleets,  and  carry  death  to  Troy. 

Nine  years  we  warr’d;  the  tenth  saw  Ilion  fall: 
Homeward  we  sail’d,  but  Heaven  dispersed  us  all. 

One  only  month  my  wife  enjoy’d  my  stay ; 

So  will’d  the  god  who  gives  and  takes  away. 

Nine  ships  I  mann’d,  equipp’d  with  ready  stores,  280 
Intent  to  voyage  to  th’  Egyptian  shores; 

In  feast  and  sacrifice  my  chosen  train 
1  Six  days  consumed:  the  seventh  we  plough’d  the  main. 

I  Crete’s  ample  fields  diminish  to  our  eye ; 

Before  the  Boreal  blast  the  vessels  fly; 

'  Safe  through  the  level  seas  we  sweep  our  way; 

The  steersman  governs,  and  the  ships  obey; 

The  fifth  fair  morn  we  stem  th’  Egyptian  tide, 

1  And  tilting  o’er  the  bay  the  vessels  ride : 

To  anchor  there  my  fellows  I  command,  290 

!  And  spies  commission’d  to  explore  the  land. 

I  But,  sway’d  by  lust  of  gain,  and  headlong  will, 

:  The  coast  they  ravage,  and  the  natives  kill. 

The  spreading  clamour  to  their  city  flies, 

.  And  horse  and  foot  in  mingled  tumult  rise. 

n  Q 


242 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XIV. 


The  reddening  dawn  reveals  the  circling  fields, 

Horrid  with  bristly  spears  and  glancing  shields. 

Jove  thunder’d  on  their  side.  Our  guilty  head 
We  turn’d  to  flight;  the  gathering  vengeance  spread 
On  all  parts  round,  and  heaps  on  heaps  lie  dead.  300 
I  then  explored  my  thought,  what  course  to  prove; 

(And  sure  the  thought  was  dictated  by  Jove:  ^ 

Oh,  had  he  left  me  to  that  happier  doom. 

And  saved  the  life  of  miseries  to  come !) 

The  radiant  helmet  from  my  brows  unlaced. 

And  low  on  earth  my  shield  and  javelin  cast, 

I  meet  the  monarch  with  a  suppliant’s  face. 

Approach  his  chariot,  and  his  knees  embrace. 

He  heard,  he  saved,  he  placed  me  at  his  side ; 

My  state  he  pitied,  and  my  tears  he  dried,  310 

Restrain’d  the  rage  the  vengeful  foe  express’d. 

And  turn’d  the  deadly  weapons  from  my  breast. 

Pious !  to  guard  the  hospitable  rite. 

And  fearing  Jove,  whom  mercy’s  works  delight. 

In  Egypt  thus,  with  peace  and  plenty  bless’d, 

I  lived  (and  happy  still  had  lived)  a  guest. 

On  seven  bright  years  successive  blessings  wait; 

The  next  changed  all  the  colour  of  my  fate. 

A  false  Phoenician,  of  insidious  mind. 

Versed  in  vile  arts,  and  foe  to  human  kind,  320 

With  semblance  fair  invites  me  to  his  home ; 

I  seized  the  proffer  (ever  fond  to  roam :) 

Domestic  in  his  faithless  roof  I  staid. 

Till  the  swift  sun  his  annual  circle  made. 

To  Lybia  then  he  meditates  the  way; 

With  guileful  art  a  stranger  to  betray, 

And  sell  to  bondage  in  a  foreign  land: 

Much  doubting,  yet  compel’d,  I  quit  the  strand. 

Through  the  mid  seas  the  nimble  pinnace  sails, 

Aloof  from  Crete,  before  the  northern  gales ;  330 

But  when  remote  her  chalky  cliffs  we  lost. 

And  far  from  ken  of  any  other  coast ; 

When  all  was  wild  expanse  of  sea  and  air; 

Then  doom’d  high  Jove  due  vengeance  to  prepare. 


243 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XIV. 

He  hung  a  night  of  horrors  o’er  their  head 
(The  shaded  ocean  blacken’d  as  it  spread); 

He  launch’d  the  fiery  bolt;  from  pole  to  pole 
Bioad  buist  the  lightnings,  deep  the  thunders  roll; 

In  giddy  rounds  the  whirling  ship  is  toss’d, 

And  all  in  clouds  of  smothering  sulphur  lost.  340 

As  from  a  hanging  rock’s  tremendous  height, 

The  sable  crows  with  intercepted  flight 

Hi  op  headlong ;  scarr’d,  and  black  with  sulphurous  hue : 

So  from  the  deck  are  hurl’d  the  ghastly  crew. 

Such  end  the  wicked  found!  but  Jove’s  intent 
Was  yet  to  save  th’  oppress’d  and  innocent. 

Placed  on  the  mast,  (the  last  resource  of  life,) 

With  winds  and  waves  I  held  unequal  strife ; 

For  nine  long  days  the  billows  tilting  o’er, 

The  tenth  soft  wafts  me  to  Thesprotia’s  shore.  850 

The  monarch’s  son  a  shipwreck’d  wretch  relieved, 

The  sire  with  hospitable  rites  received. 

And  in  his  palace  like  a  brother  placed, 

With  gifts  of  price  and  gorgeous  garments  graced. 

While  here  I  sojourn’d,  oft  I  heard  the  fame 
How  late  Ulysses  to  the  country  came, 

How  loved,  how  honour’d,  in  this  court  he  stay’d, 

And  here  his  whole  collected  treasure  laid ; 

I  saw  myself  the  vast  unnumber’d  store 

Of  steel  elaborate,  and  refulgent  ore,  3C0 

And  brass  high  heap’d  amidst  the  regal  dome ; 

Immense  supplies  for  ages  yet  to  come  I 
Meantime,  he  voyaged  to  explore  the  will 
Of  J ove,  on  high  Dodona’s  holy  hill. 

What  means  might  best  his  safe  return  avail, 

To  come  in  pomp,  or  bear  a  secret  sail? 

Full  oft  has  Phidon,  while  he  pour’d  the  wine, 

Attesting  solemn  all  the  powers  divine. 

That  soon  Ulysses  would  return,  declared. 

The  sailors  waiting,  and  the  ships  prepared.  370 

But  first  the  king  dismiss’d  me  from  his  shores. 

For  fair  Dulichium,  crown’d  with  fruitful  stores; 


244 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XIV. 


To  good  Acastus’  friendly  care  consign’d: 

But  other  counsels  pleased  the  sailor’s  mind: 

New  frauds  were  plotted  by  the  faithless  train, 

And  misery  demands  me  once  again. 

Soon  as  remote  from  shore  they  plough  the  wave, 

With  ready  hands  they  rush  to  seize  their  slave ; 

Then  with  these  tatter’d  rags  they  wrap  me  round,  ^ 
(Stripp’d  of  my  own,)  and  to  the  vessel  bound.  380 

At  eve,  at  Ithaca’s  delightful  land 
The  ship  arrived :  forth  issuing  on  the  sand 
They  sought  repast;  while,  to  th’  unhappy  kind, 

The  pitying  gods  themselves  my  chains  unbind. 

Soft  I  descended,  to  the  sea  applied 
My  naked  breast,  and  shot  along  the  tide. 

Soon  pass’d  beyond  their  sight,  I  left  the  flood. 

And  took  the  spreading  shelter  of  the  wood. 

Their  prize  escaped,  the  faithless  pirates  mourn’d ; 

But  deem’d  inquiry  vain,  and  to  their  ship  return’d.  890 
Screen’d  by  protecting  gods  from  hostile  eyes. 

They  led  me  to  a  good  man  and  a  wise. 

To  live  beneath, thy  hospitable  care, 

And  wait  the  woes  Heaven  dooms  me  yet  to  bear.” 

“Unhappy  guest!  whose  sorrows  touch  my  mind!” 
Thus  good  Eumseus  with  a  sigh  rejoin’d; 

“For  real  sufferings  since  I  grieve  sincere. 

Check  not  with  fallacies  the  springing  tear; 

Nor  turn  the  passion  into  groundless  joy 
For  him,  whom  Heaven  has  destined  to  destroy.  400 
Oh !  had  he  perished  on  some  well-fought  day. 

Or  in  his  friends’  embraces  died  away ! 

That  grateful  Greece  with  streaming  eyes  might  raise 
Historic  marbles,  to  record  his  praise ; 

His  praise,  eternal  on  the  faithful  stone. 

Had  with  transmissive  honours  graced  his  son. 

Now,  snatch’d  by  harpies  to  the  dreary  coast. 

Sunk  is  the  hero,  and  his  glory  lost! 

While  pensive  in  this  solitary  den. 

Far  from  gay  cities  and  the  ways  of  men. 


410 


245 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XIV. 

I  linger  life:  nor  to  the  court  repair, 

But  when  the  constant  queen  commands  my  care; 

Or  when,  to  taste  her  hospitable  board, 

I  Some  guest  arrives,  with  rumours  of  her  lord; 

And  these  indulge  their  want,  and  those  their  wo, 

And  here  the  tears,  and  there  the  goblets  flow. 

By  many  such  I  have  been  warn’d;  but  chief 
By  one  iEtolian  robb’d  of  all  belief, 

W^hose  hap  it  was  to  this  our  roof  to  roam. 

For  murder  banish’d  from  his  native  home.  420 

He  swore,  Ulysses  on  the  coasf  of  Crete 
Staid  but  a  season  to  refit  his  fleet ; 

A  few  revolving  months  should  waft  him  o’er. 

Fraught  with  bold  warriors,  and  a  boundless  store. 

O  thou !  whom  age  has  taught  to  understand. 

And  Heaven  has  guided  with  a  favouring  hand, 

On  god  or  mortal  to  obtrude  a  lie 
Forbear,  and  dread  to  flatter  as  to  die. 

Not  for  such  ends  my  house  and  heart  are  free. 

But  dear  respect  to  Jove,  and  charity.”  430 

“And  why,  oh,  swain  of  unbelieving  mind!” 

Thus  quick  replied  the  wisest  of  mankind, 

“Doubt  you  my  oath?  Yet  more  my  faith  to  try, 

A  solemn  compact  let  us  ratify. 

And  witness  every  power  that  rules  the  sky: 

If  here  Ulysses  from  his  labours  rest, 

I  Be  then  my  prize  a  tunic  and  a  vest ; 
j  And,  where  my  hopes  invite  me,  straight  transport 
I  In  safety  to  Dulichium’s  friendly  court, 
i  But  if  he  greets  not  thy  desiring  eye,  440 

I  Hurl  me  from  yon  dread  precipice  on  high; 

!'  The  due  reward  of  fraud  and  perjury.” 

!  “Doubtless,  oh  guest !  great  laud  and  praise  were  mine,” 
(Replied  the  swain,  for  spotless  faith  divine,) 
j  “If,  after  social  rites  and  gifts  bestow’d, 

I  stain’d  my  hospitable  hearth  with  blood. 

I  How  would  the  gods  my  righteous  toils  succeed, 

And  bless  the  hand  that  made  a  stranger  bleed? 


246 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XIV. 


No  more.  Th’  approaching  hours  of  silent  night 
First  claim  refection,  then  to  rest  invite ; 

Beneath  our  humble  cottage  let  us  haste, 

And  here,  unenvied,  rural  dainties  taste.” 

Thus  communed  these ;  while  to  their  lowly  dome 
The  full-fed  swine  return’d  with  evening  home; 
Compet’d,  reluctant,  to  their  several  sties. 

With  din  obstreperous,  and  ungrateful  cries. 

Then  to  the  slaves:  “Now  from  the  herd  the  best 
Select  in  honour  of  our  foreign  guest: 

W^ith  him  let  us  the  genial  banquet  shaie, 

For  great  and  many  are  the  griefs  we  bear; 

While  those  who  from  our  labours  heap  their  board, 
Blaspheme  their  feeder,  and  forget  their  lord.” 

Thus  speaking,  with  despatchful  hand  he  took 
A  weighty  axe,  and  cleft  the  solid  oak: 

This  on  the  earth  he  piled;  a  boar  full  fed, 

Of  five  years  age,  before  the  pile  was  led: 

The  swain,  whom  acts  of  piety  delight. 

Observant  of  the  gods,  begins  the  rite: 

First  shears  the  forehead  of  the  bristly  boar. 

And  suppliant  stands,  invoking  every  power 
To  speed  Ulysses  to  his  native  shore. 

A  knotty  stake  then  aiming  at  his  head,  ^ 

Down  dropp’d  he  groaning,  and  the  spirit  fled. 

The  scorching  flames  climb  round  on  every  side: 
Then  the  singed  members  they  with  skill  divide; 

On  these,  in  rolls  of  fat  involved  with  art. 


450 


460 


I 


470 


The  choicest  morsels  lay  from  every  part. 

Some  in  the  flames,  bestrew’d  with  flour,  they  threw; 
Some  cut  in  fragments,  from  the  forks  they  drew. 
These  while  on  several  tables  they  dispose, 

As  priest  himself  the  blameless  rustic  rose; 

Expert  the  destined  victim  to  dispart 
In  seven  just  portions,  pure  of  hand  and  heart. 

One  sacred  to  the  nymphs  apart  they  lay ; 

Another  to  the  winged  son  of  May ; 

The  rural  tribe  in  common  share  the  rest. 

The  king  the  chine,  the  honour  of  the  feast, 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XIV. 


247 


Who  sate  delighted  at  his  servant’s  board; 

The  faithful  servant  joy’d  his  unknown  lord. 

“Oh!  be  thou  dear,”  Ulysses  cried,  “to  Jove,  490 
As  well  thou  claim’st  a  grateful  stranger’s  love!” 

“Be  then  thy  thanks,”  the  bounteous  swain  replied, 
“Enjoyment  of  the  good  the  gods  provide. 

From  God’s  own  hand  descend  our  joys  and  woes; 

These  he  decrees,  and  he  but  suffers  those: 

All  power  is  his,  and  whatso’er  he  wills. 

The  will  itself,  omnipotent,  fulfils.” 

This  said,  the  first-fruits  to  the  gods  he  gave; 

Then  pour’d  of  offer’d  wine  the  sable  wave: 

In  great  Ulysses’  hand  he  placed  the  bowl,  600 

He  sate,  and  sweet  refection  cheer’d  his  soul. 

The  bread  from  canisters  Mesaubius  gave ; 

(Eumaeus’  proper  treasure  bought  this  slave. 

And  led  from  Taphos,  to  attend  his  board, 

A  servant  added  to  his  absent  lord ;) 

His  task  it  was  the  wheaten  loaves  to  lay. 

And  from  the  banquet  take  the  bowls  away. 

And  now  the  rage  of  hunger  was  repress’d, 

And  each  betakes  him  to  his  couch  to  rest. 

Now  came  the  night,  and  darkness  cover’d  o’er  510 
The  face  of  things:  the  winds  began  to  roar; 

The  driving  storm  the  watery  west-wind  pours. 

And  Jove  descends  in  deluges  of  showers. 

Studious  of  rest  and  warmth,  Ulysses  lies. 

Foreseeing  from  the  first  the  storm  would  rise; 

In  mere  necessity  of  coat  and  cloak. 

With  artful  preface  to  his  host  he  spoke: 

“Hear  me,  my  friends!  who  this  good  banquet  grace; 
’Tis  sweet  to  play  the  fool  in  time  and  place. 

And  wine  can  of  their  wits  the  wise  beguile,  520 

Make  the  sage  frolic,  and  the  serious  smile, 

The  grave  in  merry  measures  frisk  about, 

And  many  a  long-repented  word  bring  out. 

Since  to  be  talkative  I  now  commence. 

Let  wit  cast  off  the  sullen  yoke  of  sense. 


248  THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XIV. 

Once  I  was  strong,  (would  Heaven  restore  those  days !) 
And  with  my  betters  claim’d  a  share  of  praise. 

Ulysses,  Menelaus,  led  forth  a  band. 

And  join’d  me  with  them  (’twas  their  own  command): 

A  deathful  ambush  for  the  foe  to  lay,  530 

Beneath  Troy’s  walls  by  night  we  took  our  way: 

There,  clad  in  arms,  along  the  marshes  spread,  ^ 

We  made  the  osier-fringed  bank  our  bed. 

Full  soon  th’  inclemency  of  heaven  I  feel. 

Nor  had  these  shoulders  covering  but  of  steel. 

Sharp  blew  the  north;  snow  whitening  all  the  fields 
Froze  with  the  blast,  and,  gathering,  glazed  our  shields: 
There  all  but  I,  well  fenced  with  cloak  and  vest. 

Lay  cover’d  by  their  ample  shields  at  rest. 

Fool  that  I  was!  I  left  behind  my  own;  540 

The  skill  of  weather  and  of  winds  unknown. 

And  trusted  to  my  coat  and  shield  alone ! 

When  now  was  wasted  more  than  half  the  night. 

And  the  stars  faded  at  approaching  light; 

Sudden  I  jogg’d  Ulysses,  who  was  laid 
Fast  by  my  side,  and,  shivering,  thus  I  said: 

“‘Here  longer  in  this  field  I  cannot  lie; 

The  winter  pinches,  and  with  cold  I  die. 

And  die  ashamed — oh,  wisest  of  mankind ! — 

The  only  fool  who  left  his  cloak  behind.’  550 

“He  thought,  and  answer’d:  hardly  waking  yet. 

Sprung  in  his  mind  a  momentary  wit 
(That  wit  which,  or  in  council,  or  in  fight. 

Still  met  th’  emergence,  and  determined  right): 

‘“Hush  thee,’  he  cried,  soft  whispering  in  my  ear, 
‘Speak  not  a  word,  lest  any  Greek  may  hear.’ 

And  then,  supporting  on  his  arm  his  head, 

‘Hear  me,  companions!’  thus  aloud  he  said; 

‘Methinks  too  distant  from  the  fleet  we  lie: 

Ev’n  now  a  vision  stood  before  my  eye,  500 

And  sure  the  warning  vision  was  from  high: 

Let  from  among  us  some  swift  courier  rise. 

Haste  to  the  general,  and  demand  supplies.’ 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XIV. 


249 


I  ‘‘Up  started  Thoas  straight,  Andrsemon’s  son, 
j  Nimbly  he  rose,  and  cast  his  garment  down ; 

Instant,  the  racer  vanish’d  off  the  ground ; 

That  instant  in  his  cloak  I  wrapp’d  me  round: 

And  safe  I  slept,  till  brightly-dawning  shone 
The  morn  conspicuous  on  her  golden  throne. 

Oh,  were  my  strength  as  then,  as  then  my  age !  670 

Some  friend  would  fence  me  from  the  winter’s  rage. 

I  "^ot,  tatter  d  as  I  look,  I  challenged  then 

I  The  honours  and  the  offices  of  men: 

II  Some  master,  or  some  servant,  would  allow 
;  A  cloak  and  vest.  But  I  am  nothing  now !” 

“Well  hast  thou  spoke,”  rejoin’d  th’  attentive  swain; 
“Thy  lips  let  fall  no  idle  word,  or  vain ! 

Nor  garments  shalt  thou  want,  nor  aught  beside, 

;  Meet  for  the  wandering  suppliant  to  provide. 

!  But  in  the  morning  take  thy  clothes  again,  580 

;l  For  here  one  vest  suffices  every  swain; 

-  No  change  of  garments  to  our  hinds  is  known: 
j  But  when  return’d,  the  good  Ulysses’  son 
With  better  hand  shall  grace  with  fit  attires 
1  His  guest,  and  send  thee  where  thy  soul  desires.” 

The  honest  herdsman  rose,  as  this  he  said, 

And  drew  before  the  hearth  the  stranger’s  bed : 

The  fleecy  spoils  of  sheep,  a  goat’s  rough  hide 
i  He  spreads;  and  adds  a  mantle  thick  and  wide; 

'  With  store  to  heap  above  him,  and  below,  590 

And  guard  each  quarter  as  the  tempests  blow. 

There  lay  the  king  and  all  the  rest  supine; 

All  but  the  careful  master  of  the  swine: 

!  Forth  hasted  he  to  tend  his  bristly  care; 

'  Well  arm’d,  and  fenced  against  nocturnal  air; 

1  His  weighty  faulchion  o’er  his  shoulder  tied; 

1  His  shaggy  cloak  a  mountain-goat  supplied : 

'  With  his  broad  spear,  the  dread  of  dogs  and  men, 

I  He  seeks  his  lodging  in  the  rocky  den. 

There  to  the  tusky  herd  he  bends  his  way,  600 

Where,  screen’d  from  Boreas,  high  o’er-arch’d  they  lay. 
11* 


BOOK  XV. 

The  Return  of  Telemachus;  Adventures  of  EumiBus. 

Argument. — The  g'oddess  Minerva  commands  Telemachus  in  a  vision  to 
return  to  Ithaca.  Pisistratus  and  he  take  leave  of  Menelaiis,  and  arrive  at 
Pylos,  where  they  part ;  and  Telemachus  sets  sail,  after  having"  received  oai 
board  Theoclymenus  the  soothsayer.  The  scene  then  chang'es  to  the 
cottag"e  of  Eumseus,  who  entertains  Ulysses  with  a  recital  of  his  adven¬ 
tures.  In  the  mean  time,  Telemachus  arrives  on  the  coast ;  and,  sending" 
the  vessel  to  the  town,  proceeds  by  himself  to  the  lodg"e  of  Eumbeus. 

Now  had  Minerva  reach’d  thase  ample  plains,  ■ 

Famed  for  the  dance,  where  Menelaiis  reigns ;  i 

Anxious  she  flies  to  great  Ulysses’  heir,  j 

His  instant  voyage  challenged  all  her  care.  j 

Beneath  the  royal  portico  display’d,  j 

With  Nestor’s  son,  Telemachus  was  laid;  i 

In  sleep  profound  the  son  of  Nestor  lies:  S 

Not  thine,  Ulysses!  Care  unseal’d  his  eyes:  j 

Restless  he  grieved,  with  various  fears  oppress’d,  j 

And  all  thy  fortune  roll’d  within  his  breast.  10  | 

When,  “O  Telemachus!”  the  goddess  said,  i 

“Too  long  in  vain,  too  widely  hast  thou  stray’d;  j 

Thus  leaving  careless  thy  paternal  right  j 

The  robbers’  prize,  the  prey  to  lawless  might.  | 

On  fond  pursuits  neglectful  while  you  roam,  | 

Ev’n  now  the  hand  of  rapine  sacks  the  dome.  J 

Hence  to  Atrides ;  and  his  leave  implore  j 

To  launch  thy  vessel  for  thy  natal  shore:  ; 

Fly,  while  thy  mother  virtuous  yet  withstands 
Her  kindred’s  wishes  and  her  sire’s  cornmands;  20  ; 

Through  both,  Eurymachus  pursues  the  dame. 

And  with  the  noblest  gifts  asserts  his  claim. 

Hence,  therefore,  while  thy  stores  thine  own  remain ; 

Thou  know’st  the  practice  of  the  female  train: 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XV. 


251 


Lost  in  the  children  of  the  present  spouse, 

They  slight  the  pledges  of  their  former  vows; 

Their  love  is  always  with  the  lover  past; 

Still  the  succeeding  flame  expels  the  last. 

Let  o’er  thy  house  some  chosen  maid  preside, 

Till  Heaven  decrees  to  bless  thee  in  a  bride.  oO 

But  now  thy  more  attentive  ears  incline, 

Observe  the  warnings  of  a  power  divine; 

For  thee,  their  snares  the  suitor  lords  shall  lay 
In  Samos’  sands,  or  straits  of  Ithaca; 

To  seize  thy  life  shall  lurk  the  murderous  band. 

Ere  yet  thy  footsteps  press  thy  native  land. 

No:  sooner  far  their  riot  and  their  lust 
All-covering  earth  shall  bury  deep  in  dust! 

Then  distant  from  the  scatter’d  islands  steer. 

Nor  let  the  night  retard  thy  full  career;  40 

Thy  heavenly  guardian  shall  instruct  the  gales 
To  smooth  thy  passage  and  supply  thy  sails; 

And  when  at  Ithaca  thy  labour  ends. 

Send  to  the  town  thy  vessel  with  thy  friends ; 

But  seek  thou  first  the  master  of  the  swine. 

For  still  to  thee  his  loyal  thoughts  incline; 

There  pass  the  night:  while  he  his  course  pursues 
To  bring  Penelop4  the  wish’d-for  news. 

That  thou,  safe  sailing  from  the  Pylian  strand. 

Art  come  to  bless  her  in  thy  native  land.”  50 

Thus  spoke  the  goddess,  and  resumed  her  flight 
To  the  pure  regions  of  eternal  light. 

Meanwhile,  Pisistratus  he  gently  shakes. 

And  with  these  words  the  slumbering  youth  awakes: 

“Rise,  son  of  Nestor;  for  the  road  prepare. 

And  join  the  harness’d  coursers  to  the  car.” 

“What  cause,”  he  cried,  “can  justify  our  flight. 

To  tempt  the  dangers  of  forbidding  night? 

Here  wait  we  rather,  till  approaching  day 
Shall  prompt  our  speed,  and  point  the  ready  way. 

Nor  think  of  flight  before  the  Spartan  king 
Shall  bid  farewell,  and  bounteous  presents  bring; 


60 


252 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XV. 


Gifts  which,  to  distant  ages  safely  stored, 

The  sacred  act  of  friendship  shall  record.” 

Thus  he.  But  when  the  dawn  bestreak’d  the  east. 

The  king  from  Helen  rose,  and  sought  his  guest. 

As  soon  as  his  approach  the  hero  knew. 

The  splendid  mantle  round  him  first  he  threw. 

Then  o’er  his  ample  shoulders  whirl’d  the  cloak. 
Respectful  met  the  monarch,  and  bespoke:  70 

“Hail,  great  Atrides,  favour’d  of  high  Jove! 

Let  not  thy  friends  in  vain  for  license  move. 

Swift  let  us  measure  back  the  watery  way. 

Nor  check  our  speed,  impatient  of  delay.” 

“If  with  desire  so  strong  thy  bosom  glows. 

Ill,”  said  the  king,  “should  I  thy  wish  oppose; 

For  oft  in  others  freely  I  reprove 
The  ill-timed  efforts  of  officious  love; 

Who  love  too  much,  hate  in  the  like  extreme. 

And  both  the  golden  mean  alike  condemn.  80 

Alike  he  thwarts  the  hospitable  end. 

Who  drives  the  free,  or  stays  the  hasty  friend ; 

True  friendship’s  laws  are  by  this  rule  express’d. 
Welcome  the  coming,  speed  the  parting  guest. 

Yet  stay,  my  friends,  and  in  your  chariot  take 
The  noblest  presents  that  our  love  can  make. 

Meantime,  commit  we  to  our  women’s  care 
Some  choice  domestic  viands  to  prepare; 

The  traveller,  rising  from  the  banquet  gay, 

Eludes  the  labours  of  the  tedious  way.  9C 

Then  if  a  wider  course  shall  rather  please 
Through  spacious  Argos,  and  the  realms  of  Greece, 
Atrides  in  his  chariot  shall  attend ; 

Himself  thy  convoy  to  each  royal  friend : 

No  prince  will  let  Ulysses’  heir  remove 
Without  some  pledge,  some  monument  of  love: 

These  will  the  cauldron,  these  the  tripod  give. 

From  those  the  well-pair’d  mules  we  shall  receive. 

Or  bowl  emboss’d,  whose  golden  figures  live.” 

To  whom  the  youth,  for  prudence  famed,  replied:  100 
“O  monarch,  care  of  Heaven!  thy  people’s  pride! 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XV.  253 

No  friend  in  Ithaca  my  place  supplies, 

No  powerful  hands  are  there,  no  watchful  eyes : 

My  stores  exposed  and  fenceless  house  demand 
The  speediest  succour  from  my  guardian  hand; 

Lest,  in  a  search  too  anxious  and  too  vain 
Of  one  lost  joy,  I  lose  what  yet  remain.” 

His  purpose  when  the  generous  warrior  heard. 

He  charged  the  household  cates  to  be  prepared. 

Now  with  the  dawn,  from  his  adjoining  home,  110 

Was  Boethoedes  Etoneus  come; 

Swift  as  the  word  he  forms  the  rising  blaze. 

And  o’er  the  coals  the  smoking  fragments  lays. 

Meantime,  the  king,  his  son,  and  Helen,  went 
Where  the  rich  wardrobe  breathed  a  costly  scent. 

The  king  selected  from  the  glittering  rows 
A  bowl;  the  prince  a  silver  beaker  chose. 

The  beauteous  queen  revolved  with  careful  eyes 
Her  various  textures  of  unnumber’d  dyes. 

And  chose  the  largest;  with  no  vulgar  art  120 

Her  own  fair  hands  embroider’d  every  part: 

Beneath  the  rest  it  lay  divinely  bright. 

Like  radiant  Hesper  o’er  the  gems  of  night. 

Then  with  each  gift  they  hasten’d  to  their  guest. 

And  thus  the  king  Ulysses’  heir  address’d: 

“Since  fix’d  are  thy  resolves,  may  thundering  Jove 
With  happiest  omens  thy  desires  approve ! 

This  silver  bowl,  whose  costly  margins  shine 
Enchased  with  gold,  this  valued  gift  be  thine; 

To  me  this  present,  of  Vulcanian  frame,  130 

From  Sidon’s  hospitable  monarch  came ; 

To  thee  we  now  consign  the  precious  load. 

The  pride  of  kings,  and  labour  of  a  god.” 

Then  gave  the  cup ;  while  Megapenthes  brought 
The  silver  vase  with  living  sculpture  wrought. 

The  beauteous  queen,  advancing  next,  display’d 
The  shining  veil,  and  thus  enddaring  said: 

“Accept,  dear  youth,  this  monument  of  love. 

Long  since,  in  better  days,  by  Helen  wove: 


254 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XV. 


Safe  in  thy  mother’s  care  the  vesture  lay,  140 

To  deck  thy  bride,  and  grace  thy  nuptial-day. 

Meantime,  may’st  thou  with  happiest  speed  regain 
Thy  stately  palace,  and  thy  wide  domain.” 

She  said;  and  gave  the  veil.  With  grateful  look 
The  prince  the  variegated  present  took. 

And  now,  when  through  the  royal  dome  they  pass’d. 

High  on  a  throne  the  king  each  stranger  placed. 

A  golden  ewer  th’  attendant  damsel  brings. 

Replete  with  water  from  the  crystal  springs ; 

With  copious  streams  the  shining  vase  supplies  150 

A  silver  laver  of  capacious  size. 

They  wash.  The  tables  in  fair  order  spread. 

The  glittering  canisters  are  crown’d  with  bread; 

Viands  of  various  kinds  allure  the  taste. 

Of  choicest  sort  and  savour — rich  repast!  ' 

While  Etoneus  portions  out  the  shares, 

Atrides’ son  the  purple  draught  prepares. 

And  now  (each  sated  with  the  genial  feast. 

And  the  short  rage  of  thirst  and  hunger  ceased) 

Ulysses’  son,  with  his  illustrious  friend,  160 

The  horses  join,  the  polish’d  car  ascend. 

Along  the  court  the  fiery  steeds  rebound. 

And  the  wide  portal  echoes  to  the  sound. 

The  king  precedes;  a  bowl  with  fragrant  wine 
(Libation  destined  to  the  powers  divine) 

His  right  hand  held:  before  the  steeds  he  stands. 

Then,  mix’d  with  prayers,  he  utters  these  commands: 

“Farewell,  and  prosper,  youths!  let  Nestor  know 
What  grateful  thoughts  still  in  this  bosom  glow. 

For  all  the  proofs  of  his  paternal  care,  170 

Through  the  long  dangers  of  the  ten  years’  war.” 

“Ah!  doubt  not  our  report,”  the  prince  rejoin’d, 

“Of  all  the  virtues  of  thy  generous  mind. 

And,  oh !  return’d  might  we  Ulysses  meet ! 

To  him  thy  presents  show,  thy  words  repeat: 

How  will  each  speech  his  grateful  wonder  raise ! 

How  will  each  gift  indulge  us  in  thy  praise !” 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XV. 


255 


Scarce  ended  thus  the  prince,  when  on  the  right 
Advanced  the  bird  of  Jove:  auspicious  sight! 

A  milk-white  fowl  his  clinching  talons  bore,  180 

With  care  domestic  pamper’d  at  the  floor. 

Peasants  in  vain  with  threatening  cries  pursue, 

In  solemn  speed  the  bird  majestic  flew 
Full  dexter  to  the  car:  the  prosperous  sight 
Fill’d  every  breast  with  wonder  and  delight. 

But  Nestor’s  son  the  cheerful  silence  broke, 

And  in  these  words  the  Spartan  chief  bespoke: 

‘‘Say,  if  to  us  the  gods  these  omens  send. 

Or  fates  peculiar  to  thyself  portend?” 

While  yet  the  monarch  paused,  with  doubts  oppress’d. 
The  beauteous  queen  relieved  his  labouring  breast:  191 
“Hear  me,”  she  cried,  “to  whom  the  gods  have  given 
To  read  this  sign,  and  mystic  sense  of  Heaven: 

As  thus  the  plumy  sovereign  of  the  air 
Left  on  the  mountain’s  brow  his  callow  care, 

And  wander’d  through  the  wide  ethereal  way 
To  pour  his  wrath  on  yon  luxurious  prey : 

So  shall  thy  godlike  father,  toss’d  in  vain 
Through  all  the  dangers  of  the  boundless  main. 

Arrive,  or  is  perchance  already  come,  200 

From  slaughter’d  gluttons  to  release  the  dome.” 

“Oh!  if  this  promised  bliss  by  thundering  Jove,” 

The  prince  replied,  “stand  fix’d  in  fate  above. 

To  thee,  as  to  some  god.  I’ll  temples  raise. 

And  crown  thy  altars  with  the  costly  blaze.” 

He  said;  and,  bending  o’er  his  chariot,  flung 
Athwart  the  fiery  steeds  the  smarting  thong; 

The  bounding  shafts  upon  the  harness  play, 

Till  night  descending  intercepts  the  way. 

To  Diodes,  at  Pherse,  they  repair,  210 

Whose  boasted  sire  was  sacred  Alpheus’  heir; 

With  him  all  night  the  youthful  strangers  stay’d. 

Nor  found  the  hospitable  rites  unpaid. 

But  soon  as  morning  from  her  orient  bed 
Had  tinged  the  mountains  with  her  earliest  red, 


256  the  odyssey,  BOOK  XV. 

They  join’d  the  steeds,  and  on  the  chariot  sprung, 
The  brazen  portals  in  their  passage  rung. 

To  Pylos  soon  they  came;  when  thus  begun 
To  Nestor’s  heir  Ulysses’  godlike  son: 

“Let  not  Pisistratus  in  vain  be  press’d, 

Nor  unconsenting  hear  his  friend’s  request; 

His  friend  by  long  hereditary  claim, 

In  toils  his  equal,  and  in  years  the  same. 

No  farther  from  our  vessel,  I  implore, 

The  coursers  drive;  but  lash  them  to  the  shore. 
Too  long  thy  father  would  his  friend  detain; 

I  dread  his  proffer’d  kindness  urged  in  vain.” 

The  hero  paused,  and  ponder’d  this  request, 
While  love  and  duty  warr’d  within  his  breast. 

At  length  resolved,  he  turn’d  his  ready  hand, 

And  lash’d  his  panting  coursers  to  the  strand. 

There,  while  within  the  poop  with  care  he  stored 
The  regal  presents  of  the  Spartan  lord, 

“With  speed  begone,”  said  he;  “call  every  mate, 
Ere  yet  to  Nestor  I  the  tale  relate: 

’Tis  true,  the  fervour  of  his  generous  heart 
Brooks  no  repulse,  nor  could’st  thou  soon  depart : 
Himself  will  seek  thee  here,  nor  wilt  thou  find 
In  words  alone,  the  Pylian  monarch  kind. 

But  when,  arrived,  he  thy  return  shall  know, 

How  will  his  breast  with  honest  fury  glow?” 

This  said,  the  sounding  strokes  his  horses  fire. 
And  soon  he  reach’d  the  palace  of  his  sire. 

“Now,”  cried  Telemachus,  “with  speedy  care 
Hoist  every  sail,  and  every  oar  prepare.” 

Swift  as  the  word  his  willing  mates  obey. 

And  seize  their  seats,  impatient  for  the  sea. 

Meantime,  the  prince  with  sacrifice  adores 
Minerva,  and  her  guardian  aid  implores ; 

When,  lo!  a  wretch  ran  breathless  to  the  shore. 
New  from  his  crime,  and  reeking  yet  with  gore. 

A  seer  he  was,  from  great  Melampus  sprung, 
Melampus,  who  in  Pylos  flourish’d  long. 


220 


230 


240 


250 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XV. 


257 


Till,  urged  by  wrongs,  a  foreign  realm  he  chose, 

Far  from  the  hateful  cause  of  all  his  woes. 

Neleus  his  treasures  one  long  year  detains; 

As  long  he  groan’d  in  Phylacus’s  chains: 

Meantime,  what  anguish  and  what  rage,  combined. 

For  lovely  Pero  rack’d  his  labouring  mind ! 

Yet  ’scaped  he  death;  and,  vengeful  of  his  wrong,  260 
To  Pylos  drove  the  lowing  herds  along; 

Then  (Neleus  vanquish’d,  and  consign’d  the  fair 
To  Bias’  arms)  he  sought  a  foreign  air ; 

Argos  the  rich  for  his  retreat  he  chose. 

There  form’d  his  empire:  there  his  palace  rose. 

From  him  Antiphates  and  Mantius  came: 

The  first  begot  Oicleus,  great  in  fame. 

And  he  Amphiaraus,  immortal  name ! 

The  people’s  saviour,  and  divinely  wise. 

Beloved  by  Jove,  and  him  who  gilds  the  skies,  270 

Yet  short  his  date  of  life!  by  female  pride  he  dies. 

From  Mantius,  Clitus,  whom  Aurora’s  love 
Snatch’d  for  his  beauty  to  the  thrones  above; 

And  Polyphides,  on  whom  Phcebus  shone 
With  fullest  rays,  Amphiaraus  now  gone: 

In  Hyperesia’s  groves  he  made  abode. 

And  taught  mankind  the  counsels  of  the  god. 

From  him  sprung  Theoclymenus,  who  found 
(The  sacred  wine  yet  foaming  on  the  ground) 
Telemachus ;  whom,  as  to  Heaven  he  press’d  280 

His  ardent  vows,  the  stranger  thus  address’d : 

“Oh,  thou!  that  dost  thy  happy  course  prepare 
With  pure  libations  and  with  solemn  prayer; 

By  that  dread  power  to  whom  thy  vows  are  paid ; 

By  all  the  lives  of  these;  thy  own  dear  head. 

Declare  sincerely  to  no  foe’s  demand 
Thy  name,  thy  lineage,  and  paternal  land.” 

“Prepare  then,”  said  Telemachus,  “to  know 
A  tale  fi'om  falsehood  free,  not  free  from  wo. 

From  Ithaca,  of  royal  birth,  I  came. 

And  great  Ulysses  (ever-honour’d  name !) 

R 


290 


258  the  odyssey,  book  XV. 

Was  once  my  sire,  though  now  for  ever  lost,  ii  ,v 

In  Stygian  gloom  he  glides  a  pensive  ghost ! 

Whose  fate  inquiring  through  the  world  we  rove;  ./ 
The  last,  the  wretched  proof  of  filial  love.” 

The  stranger  then:  ‘‘Nor  shall  I  aught  conceal,  . 

But  the  dire  secret  of  my  fate  reveal.  ) 

Of  my  own  tribe  an  Argive  wretch  I  slew ;  i 

Whose  powerful  friends  the  luckless  deed  pursue 
With  unrelenting  rage,  and  force  from  home  300 

The  hlood-stain’d  exile,  ever  doom’d  to  roam. 

But  bear,  oh!  bear  me  o’er  yon  azure  flood: 

Receive  the  suppliant !  spare  my  destined  blood  1” 
“Stranger,”  replied  the  prince,  “securely  rest 
Affianced  in  our  faith;  henceforth  our  guest.” 

Thus  affable,  Ulysses’  godlike  heir 
Takes  from  the  stranger’s  hand  the  glittering  spear: 

He  climbs  the  ship,  ascends  the  stern  with  haste,  < 

And  by  his  side  the  guest  accepted  placed. 

The  chief  his  orders  gives:  th’  obedient  band  310 

With  due  observance  wait  the  chief’s  command; 

With  speed  the  mast  they  rear,  with  speed  unbind 
The  spacious  sheet,  and  stretch  it  to  the  wind. 

Minerva  calls ;  the  ready  gales  obey 
With  rapid  speed  to  whirl  them  o’er  the  sea. 

Crunos  they  pass’d,  next  Chalcis  roll’d  away. 

When  thickening  darkness  closed  the  doubtful  day : 

The  silver  Phaea’s  glittering  rills  they  lost, 

And  skimm’d  along  by  Elis’  sacred  coast. 

Then  cautious  through  the  rocky  reaches  wind,  320 
And,  turning  sudden,  shun  the  death  design’d. 

Meantime,  the  king,  Eumaeus,  and  the  rest. 

Sate  in  the  cottage,  at  their  rural  feast: 

The  banquet  pass’d,  and  satiate  every  man. 

To  try  his  host,  Ulysses  thus  began: 

“Yet  one  night  more,  my  friends,  indulge  your  guest. 
The  last  I  purpose  in  your  walls  to  rest: 

To-morrow  for  myself  I  must  provide, 

And  only  ask  your  counsel  and  a  guide ; 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XV. 

Patient  to  roam  the  street,  by  hunger  led, 

And  bless  the  friendly  hand  that  gives  me  bread. 
There  in  Ulysses’  roof  I  may  relate 
Ulysses’  wanderings  to  his  royal  mate; 

Or,  mingling  with  the  suitors  haughty  train, 

Not  undeserving,  some  support  obtain. 

Hermes  to  me  his  various  gifts  imparts. 

Patron  of  industry  and  manual  arts: 

Few  can  with  me  in  dextrous  works  contend, 

The  pyre  to  build,  the  stubborn  oak  to  lend; 

To  turn  the  tasteful  viand  o’er  the  flame. 

Or  foam  the  goblet  with  a  purple  stieam. 

Such  are  the  tasks  of  men  of  mean  estate. 

Whom  fortune  dooms  to  serve  the  rich  and  great.” 

“Alas!”  Eumseus  with  a  sigh  rejoin’d, 

“How  sprung  a  thought  so  monstrous  in  thy  mind? 
If  on  that  godless  race  thou  would’st  attend. 

Fate  owes  thee  sure  a  miserable  end ! 

Their  wrongs  and  blasphemies  ascend  the  sky. 

And  pull  descending  vengeance  from  on  high. 

Not  such,  my  friend,  the  servants  of  their  feast ; 

A  blooming  train  in  rich  embroidery  dress’d ; 

With  earth’s  whole  tribute  the  bright  table  bends. 
And  smiling  round  celestial  youth  attends. 

Stay  then:  no  eye  askance  beholds  thee  here: 
Sweet  is  thy  converse  to  each  social  ear. 

Well  pleased,  and  pleasing,  in  our  cottage  rest. 
Till  good  Telemachus  accepts  his  guest  ^  . 

With  genial  gifts,  and  change  of  fair  attires. 

And  safe  conveys  thee  where  thy  soul  desires.” 

To  him  the  man  of  woes:  “Oh,  gracious  Jove! 
Reward  this  stranger’s  hospitable  love  1 
Who  knows  the  son  of  sorrow  to  relieve,  ^ 

Cheers  the  sad  heart,  nor  lets  affliction  grieve. 

Of  all  the  ills  unhappy  mortals  know, 

A  life  of  wanderings  is  the  greatest  wo : 

On  all  their  weary  ways  wait  care  and  pain. 

And  pine  and  penury,  a  meagre  train. 


259 

330 


340 


350 


360 


260 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XV. 


To  such  a  man  since  harbour  you  afford, 

Relate  the  farther  fortunes  of  your  lord ; 

What  cares  his  mother’s  tender  breast  engage,  370 

And  sire,  forsaken  on  the  verge  of  age ; 

Beneath  the  sun  prolong  they  yet  their  breath? 

Or  range  the  house  of  darkness  and  of  death?” 

To  whom  the  swain:  “Attend  what  you  inquire; 
Laertes  lives,  the  miserable  sire 
Lives,  but  implores  of  every  power  to  lay 
The  burden  down,  and  wishes  for  the  day. 

Torn  from  his  offspring  in  the  eve  of  life, 

Torn  from  th’  embraces  of  his  tender  wife. 

Sole,  and  all  comfortless,  he  wastes  away  380 

Old  age,  untimely  posting  ere  his  day. 

She  too,  sad  mother !  for  Ulysses  lost 
Pined  out  her  bloom,  and  vanish’d  to  a  ghost. 

(So  dire  a  fate,  ye  righteous  gods !  avert 
From  every  friendly,  every  feeling  heart!) 

While  yet  she  was,  though  clouded  o’er  with  grief. 

Her  pleasing  converse  minister’d  relief: 

With  Ctimene,  her  youngest  daughter,  bred. 

One  roof  contain’d  us,  and  one  table  fed. 

But  when  the  softly-stealing  pace  of  time,  390 

Crept  on  from  childhood  into  youthful  prime. 

To  Samos’  isle  she  sent  the  wedded  fair; 

Me  to  the  fields  to  tend  the  rural  care; 

Array’d  in  garments  her  own  hands  had  wove, 

Nor  less  the  darling  object  of  her  love. 

Her  hapless  death  my  brighter  days  o’ercast. 

Yet  Providence  deserts  me  not  at  last; 

My  present  labours  food  and  drink  procure. 

And  more,  the  pleasure  to  relieve  the  poor. 

Small  is  the  comfort  from  the  queen  to  hear  400 

Unwelcome  news,  or  vex  the  royal  ear; 

Blank  and  discountenanced  the  servants  stand. 

Nor  dare  to  question  where  the  proud  command: 

No  profit  springs  beneath  usurping  powers; 

Want  feeds  not  there,  where  luxury  devours; 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XV. 

Nor  harbours  charity  where  riot  reigns: 

Proud  are  the  lords,  and  wretched  are  the  swains.” 

The  suffering  chief  at  this  began  to  melt; 

And,  “Oh,  Eumseus!  thou”  (he  cries)  “hast  felt 
The  spite  of  fortune  too !  her  cruel  hand 
Snatch’d  thee  an  infant  from  thy  native  land ! 
Snatch’d  from  thy  parents’  arms,  thy  parents’  eyes. 
To  early  wants!  a  man  of  miseries! 

Thy  whole  sad  story,  from  its  first,  declare : 

Sunk  the  fair  city  by  the  rage  of  war. 

Where  once  thy  parents  dwelt?  or  did  they  keep. 
In  humbler  life,  the  lowing  herds  and  sheep? 

So  left,  perhaps,  to  tend  the  fleecy  train. 

Rude  pirates  seized,  and  shipp’d  thee  o’er  the  main? 
Doom’d  a  fair  prize  to  grace  some  prince’s  board. 
The  worthy  purchase  of  a  foreign  lord.” 

“If  then  my  fortunes  can  delight  my  friend, 

A  story  fruitful  of  events  attend: 

Another’s  sorrow  may  thy  ear  enjoy. 

And  wine  the  lengthen’d  intervals  employ. 

Long  nights  the  now-declining  year  bestows; 

A  part  we  consecrate  to  soft  repose, 

A  part  in  pleasing  talk  we  entertain; 

For  too  much  rest  itself  becomes  a  pain. 

Let  those  whom  sleep  invites,  the  call  obey. 

Their  cares  resuming  with  the  dawning  day: 

Here  let  us  feast,  and  to  the  feast  be  join’d 
Discourse,  the  sweeter  banquet  of  the  mind; 
Review  the  series  of  our  lives,  and  taste 
The  melancholy  joy  of  evils  past: 

For  he  who  much  has  suffer’d,  much  will  know ; 
And  pleased  remembrance  builds  delight  on  wo. 

“  Above  Ortygia  lies  an  isle  of  fame. 

Far  hence  remote,  and  Syria  is  the  name, 

(There  curious  eyes,  inscribed  with  wonder,  trace 
The  sun’s  diurnal,  and  his  annual  race;) 

Not  large,  but  fruitful;  stored  with  grass,  to  keep 
The  bellowing  oxen  and  the  bleating  sheep ; 


262 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XV.  ‘ 

Her  sloping  hills  the  mantling  vines  adorn, 

And  her  rich  valleys  wave  with  golden  corn. 

No  want,  no  famine,  the  glad  natives  know. 

Nor  sink  by  sickness  to  the  shades  below; 

But  when  a  length  of  years  unnerves  the  strong, 

Apollo  comes,  and  Cynthia  comes  along. 

They  bend  the  silver  bow  with  tender  skill,  45G 

And,  void  of  pain,  the  silent  arrows  kill. 

Two  equal  tribes  this  fertile  land  divide. 

Where  two  fair  cities  rise  with  equal  pride. 

But  both  in  constant  peace  one  prince  obey. 

And  Ctesius  there,  my  father,  holds  the  sway. 

Freighted,  it  seems,  with  toys  of  every  sort, 

A  ship  of  Sidon  anchor’d  in  our  port; 

What-time  it  chanced  the  palace  entertain’d. 

Skill’d  in  rich  works,  a  woman  of  their  land: 

This  nymph,  where  anchor’d  the  Phoenician  train,  460 
To  wash  her  robes  descending  to  the  main, 

A  smooth-tongued  sailor  won  her  to  his  mind ; 

(For  love  deceives  the  best  of  womankind.) 

A  sudden  trust  from  sudden  liking  grew; 

She  told  her  name,  her  race,  and  all  she  knew. 

“‘I  too,’  she  cried,  ‘from  glorious  Sidon  came. 

My  father  Arybas,  of  wealthy  fame ; 

But,  snatch’d  by  pirates  from  my  native  place. 

The  Taphians  sold  me  to  this  man’s  embrace.’ 

“‘Haste  then,’  the  false-designing  youth  replied,  470 
‘Haste  to  thy  country:  love  shall  be  thy  guide: 

Haste  to  thy  father’s  house,  thy  father’s  breast; 

For  still  he  lives,  and  lives  with  riches  bless’d.’ 

“‘Swear  first,’  she  cried,  ‘ye  sailors!  to  restore 
A  wretch  in  safety  to  her  native  shore.’ 

“Swift  as  she  ask’d,  the  ready  sailors  swore. 

She  then  proceeds:  ‘Now  let  our  compact  made 
Be  nor  by  signal  nor  by  word  betray’d. 

Nor  near  me  any  of  your  crew  descried. 

By  road  frequented,  or  by  fountain-side.  480 

Be  silence  still  our  guard.  The  monarch’s  spies 
(For  watchful  age  is  ready  to  surmise) 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XV. 


263 


Are  still  at  hand;  and  this,  reveal’d,  must  be 
Death  to  yourselves,  eternal  chains  to  me. 

Your  vessel  loaded,  and  your  traffic  past. 

Despatch  a  wary  messenger  with  haste ; 

Then  gold  and  costly  treasures  will  I  bring. 

And  more,  the  infant  offspring  of  the  king. 

Him,  child-like  wandering  forth.  I’ll  lead  away, 

(A  noble  prize !)  and  to  your  ship  convey.’  41 

“Thus  spoke  the  dame,  and  homeward  took  the  road. 
A  year  they  traffic,  and  their  vessel  load. 

Their  stores  complete,  and  ready  now  to  weigh, 


A  spv  was  sent  their  summons  to  convey  i 
An  artist  to  my  father’s  palace  came. 

With  gold  and  amber  chains,  elaborate  frame: 
Each  female  eye  the  glittering  links  employ; 
They  turn,  review,  and  cheapen  every  toy. 

He  took  th’  occasion,  as  they  stood  intent, 

Gave  her  the  sign,  and  to  his  vessel  went. 

She  straight  pursued,  and  seized  my  willing  arm; 
I  follow’d  smiling,  innocent  of  harm. 

Three  golden  goblets  in  the  porch  she  found, 
(The  guests  not  enter’d,  but  the  table  crown’d;) 
Hid  in  her  fraudful  bosom  these  she  bore: 

Now  set  the  sun,  and  darken’d  all  the  shore. 


Arriving  then,  where  tilting  on  the  tides 
Prepared  to  launch  the  freighted  vessel  rides, 

Aboard  they  heave  us,  mount  their  decks,  and  sweep 
With  level  oar  along  the  glassy  deep.  ^  - 

Six  calmy  days  and  six  smooth  nights  we  sail, 

And  constant  Jove  supplied  the  gentle  gale. 

The  seventh,  the  fraudful  wretch,  (no  cause  descried,) 
Touch’d  by  Diana’s  vengeful  arrow,  died. 

Down  dropp’d  the  caitiff-corse,  a  worthless  load, 
Down  to  the  deep;  there  roll  d,  the  future  food 
Of  fierce  sea-wolves  and  monsters  of  the  flood. 

A  helpless  infant,  I  remain’d  behind; 

Thence  borne  to  Ithaca  by  wave  and  wind ; 

Sold  to  Laertes  by  divine  command. 

And  now  adopted  to  a  foreign  land.” 


264 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XV. 


To  him  the  king:  “Reciting  thus  thy  cares, 

My  secret  soul  in  all  thy  sorrow  shares ; 

But  one  choice  blessing  (such  is  Jove’s  high  will) 

Has  sweeten’d  all  thy  bitter  draught  of  ill: 

Torn  from  thy  country  to  no  hapless  end, 

The  gods  have,  in  a  master,  given  a  friend. 

Whatever  frugal  nature  needs  is  thine, 

(For  she  needs  little,)  daily  bread  and  wine. 

While  I,  so  many  wanderings  past,  and  woes,  530 

Live  but  on  what  thy  poverty  bestows.” 

So  pass’d  in  pleasing  dialogue  away 
The  night;  then  down  to  short  repose  they  lay; 

Till  radiant  rose  the  messenger  of  day. 

While  in  the  port  of  Ithaca  the  band 
Of  young  Telemachus  approach’d  the  land: 

Their  sails  they  loosed,  they  lash’d  the  mast  aside. 

And  cast  their  anchors,  and  the  cables  tied: 

Then  on  the  breezy  shore  descending,  join 

In  grateful  banquet  o’er  the  rosy  wine.  540 

When  thus  the  prince:  “Now  each  his  course  pursue; 

I  to  the  fields,  and  to  the  city  you. 

Long  absent  hence,  I  dedicate  this  day 
My  swains  to  visit,  and  the  works  survey. 

Expect  me  with  the  morn,  to  pay  the  skies 
Our  debt  of  safe  return  in  feast  and  sacrifice.” 

Then  Theoclymenus :  “But  who  shall  lend. 

Meantime,  protection  to  thy  stranger-friend? 

Straight  to  the  queen  and  palace  shall  I  fly. 

Or,  yet  more  distant,  to  some  lord  apply?”  550 

The  prince  return’d:  “Renown’d  in  days  of  yore 
Has  stood  our  father’s  hospitable  door; 

No  other  roof  a  stranger  should  receive. 

Nor  other  hands  than  ours  the  welcome  give. 

But  in  my  absence  riot  fills  the  place. 

Nor  bears  the  modest  queen  a  stranger’s  face; 

From  noiseful  revel  far  remote  she  flies. 

But  rarely  seen,  or  seen  with  weeping  eyes. 

No:  let  Eurymachus  receive  my  guest. 

Of  nature  courteous,  and  by  far  the  best ; 


560 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XV. 


265 


He  WOOS  the  queen  with  more  respectful  flame, 

And  emulates  her  former  husband’s  fame : 

With  what  success,  ’tis  Jove’s  alone  to  know, 

And  the  hoped  nuptials  turn  to  joy  or  wo.” 

Thus  speaking,  on  the  right  up-soar’d  in  air 
The  hawk,  Apollo’s  swift- wing’d  messenger: 

His  deathful  pounces  tore  a  trembling  dove; 

The  clotted  feathers,  scatter’d  from  above. 

Between  the  vessel  and  the  hero  pour 
Thick  plumage,  mingled  with  a  sanguine  shower.  570 
Th’  observing  augur  took  the  prince  aside. 

Seized  by  the  hand,  and  thus,  prophetic,  cried: 

“Yon  bird,  that  dexter  cuts  th’  aerial  road. 

Rose  ominous,  nor  flies  without  a  god: 

No  race  but  thine  shall  Ithaca  obey. 

To  thine,  for  ages.  Heaven  decrees  the  sway.” 

“  Succeed  the  omen,  gods !”  the  youth  rejoin’d ; 

“Soon  shall  my  bounties  speak  a  grateful  mind. 

And  soon  each  envied  happiness  attend 
The  man  who  calls  Telemachus  his  friend.”  580 

Then  to  Peirseus :  “  Thou  whom  time  has  proved 
A  faithful  servant,  by  thy  prince  beloved ! 

Till  we  returning  shall  our  guest  demand. 

Accept  this  charge  with  honour  at  our  hand.” 

To  this  Peirseus:  “Joyful  I  obey. 

Well  pleased  the  hospitable  rites  to  pay. 

The  presence  of  thy  guest  shall  best  reward. 

If  long  thy  stay,  the  absence  of  my  lord.” 

With  that,  their  anchors  he  commands  to  weigh. 

Mount  the  tall  bark,  and  launch  into  the  sea.  590 

All,  with  obedient  haste,  forsake  the  shores. 

And,  placed  in  order,  spread  their  equal  oars. 

Then  from  the  deck  the  prince  his  sandals  takes; 

Poised  in  his  hand  the  pointed  javelin  shakes. 

They  part;  while,  lessening  from  the  hero’s  view. 

Swift  to  the  town  the  well-row’d  galley  flew: 

The  hero  trod  the  margin  of  the  main. 

And  reach’d  the  mansion  of  his  faithful  swain. 

12 


n 


BOOK  XVI. 

The  Discovery  of  Ulysses  to  Telemachus. 

Argument. — ^Telemachus,  arriving'  at  the  lodge  of  Eumreus,  sends  him  to 
carry  Penelop^  the  news  of  his  return.  Minerva,  appearing  to  Ulysses, 
commands  him  to  discover  himself  to  his  son.  The  princes,  who  had 
lain  in  ambush  to  intercept  Telemachus  in  his  way,  their  project  being 
defeated,  return  to  Ithaca. 

Soon  as  the  morning  blush’d  along  the  plains, 

Ulysses  and  the  monarch  of  the  swains, 

Awake  the  sleeping  fires,  their  meal  prepare,  ^ 

And  forth  to  pastures  send  the  bristly  care. 

The  prince’s  near  approach  the  dogs  descry. 

And  fawning  round  his  feet  confess  their  joy. 

Their  gentle  blandishment  the  king  survey’d. 

Heard  his  resounding  step,  and  instant  said : 

“Some  well-known  friend,  Eumasus,  bends  his  way: 

His  steps  I  hear;  the  dogs  familiar  play.”  10 

While  yet  he  spoke,  the  prince,  advancing,  drew 
Nigh  to  the  lodge,  and  now  appear’d  in  view. 
Transported,  from  his  seat  Eumseus  sprung. 

Dropp’d  the  full  bowl,  and  round  his  bosom  hung ; 

Kissing  his  cheek,  his  hand,  while  from  his  eye 
The  tears  rain’d  copious  in  a  shower  of  joy. 

As  some  fond  sire,  who  ten  long  winters  grieves, 

From  foreign  climes  an  only  son  receives, 

(Child  of  his  age,)  with  strong  paternal  joy 

Forward  he  springs,  and  clasps  the  favourite  boy:  20 

So  round  the  youth  his  arms  Eumseus  spread, 

As  if  the  grave  had  given  him  from  the  dead. 

“And  is  it  thou?  my  ever-dear  delight! 

Oh,  art  thou  come  to  bless  my  longing  sight! 

Never,  I  never  hoped  to  view  this  day. 

When  o’er  the  waves  you  plough’d  the  desperate  way. 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XVI. 


267 


Enter,  my  child!  Beyond  my  hopes  restored, 

Oh,  give  these  eyes  to  feast  upon  their  lord. 

Enter,  oh,  seldom  seen!  for  lawless  powers 
Too  much  detain  thee  from  these  sylvan  bowers.”  30 
The  prince  replied:  “Eumaeus,  I  obey; 

To  seek  thee,  friend,  I  hither  took  my  way. 

But  say,  if  in  the  court  the  queen  reside. 

Severely  chaste,  or  if  commenced  a  bride?” 

Thus  he;  and  thus  the  monarch  of  the  swains: 
‘‘Severely  chaste  Penelop4  remains; 

But,  lost  to  every  joy,  she  wastes  the  day 
In  tedious  cares,  and  weeps  the  night  away.” 

He  ended,  and  (receiving  as  they  pass 
The  javelin,  pointed  with  a  star  of  brass,)  40 

They  reach’d  the  dome;  the  dome  with  marble  shined; 
His  seat  Ulysses  to  the  prince  resign’d. 

“Not  so!”  exclaim’d  the  prince,  with  decent  grace; 
“For  me  this  house  shall  find  an  humbler  place; 

T’  usurp  the  honours  due  to  silver  hairs 

And  reverend  strangers,  modest  youth  forbears.” 

Instant  the  swain  the  spoils  of  beasts  supplies. 

And  bids  the  rural  throne  with  osiers  rise. 

There  sate  the  prince ;  the  feast  Eumaeus  spread. 

And  heap’d  the  shining  canisters  with  bread.  50 

Thick  o’er  the  board  the  plenteous  viands  lay. 

The  frugal  remnants  of  the  former  day. 

Then  in  a  bowl  he  tempers  generous  wines. 

Around  whose  verge  a  mimic  ivy  twines. 

And  now,  the  rage  of  thirst  and  hunger  fled. 

Thus  young  Ulysses  to  Eumseus  said: 

“Whence,  father,  from  what  shore  this  stranger,  say? 
What  vessel  bore  him  o’er  the  watery  way? 

To  human  step  our  land  impervious  lies. 

And  round  the  coast  circumfluent  oceans  rise.”  60 

The  swain  returns:  “A  tale  of  sorrows  hear: 

In  spacious  Crete  he  drew  his  natal  air; 

Long  doom’d  to  wander  o’er  the  land  and  main. 

For  Heaven  has  wove  his  thread  of  life  with  pain. 


268 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XVI. 


Half-breathless,  ’scaping  to  the  land  he  flew 
From  Thesprot  mariners,  a  murderous  crew. 

To  thee,  my  son,  the  suppliant  I  resign;  ' 

I  gave  him  my  protection,  grant  him  thine.”  '  ^ 

“Hard  task,”  he  cries,  “thy  virtue  gives  thy  friend. 
Willing  to  aid,  unable  to  defend.  "70 

Can  strangers  safely  in  the  court  reside. 

Midst  the  swell’d  insolence  of  lust  and  pride? 

Ev’n  I  unsafe:  the  queen  in  doubt  to  wed. 

Or  pay  due  honours  to  the  nuptial-bed : 

Perhaps  she  weds  regardless  of  her  fame. 

Deaf  to  the  mighty  Ulyssean  name : 

However,  stranger!  from  our  grace  receive 
Such  honours  as  befit  a  prince  to  give ; 

Sandals,  a  sword,  and  robes,  respect  to  prove. 

And  safe  to  sail  with  ornaments  of  love:  80 

Till  then,  thy  guest  amid  the  rural  train. 

Far  from  the  court,  from  danger  far,  detain. 

’Tis  mine  with  food  the  hungry  to  supply. 

And  clothe  the  naked  from  th’  inclement  sky. 

Here  dwell  in  safety  from  the  suitors’  wrongs. 

And  the  rude  insults  of  ungovern’d  tongues. 

For  should’ st  thou  suffer,  powerless  to  relieve, 

I  must  behold  it,  and  can  only  grieve. 

The  brave,  encompass’d  by  a  hostile  train, 

O’erpower’d  by  numbers,  is  but  brave  in  vain.”  90 

To  whom,  while  anger  in  his  bosom  glows. 

With  warmth  replies  the  man  of  mighty  woes: 

“  Since  audience  mild  is  deign’d,  permit  my  tongue 
At  once  to  pity  and  resent  thy  wrong. 

My  heart  weeps  blood  to  see  a  soul  so  brave 
Live  to  base  insolence  of  power  a  slave. 

But  tell  me,  dost  thou,  prince — dost  thou  behold. 

And  hear  their  midnight  revels  uncontrol’d? 

Say,  do  thy  subjects  in  bold  faction  rise, 

Or  priests  in  fabled  oracles  advise?  100 

Or  are  thy  brothers,  who  should  aid  thy  power, 

Turn’d  mean  deserters  in  the  needful  hour? 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XVI. 


269 


Oh,  that  I  were  from  great  Ulysses  sprung, 

Or  that  these  wither’d  nerves  like  thine  were  strung ! 
Or,  heavens !  might  he  return !  and  soon  appear — 
He  shall,  I  trust;  a  hero  scorns  despair — 

Might  he  return,  I  yield  my  life  a  prey 
To  my  worst  foe,  if  that  avenging  day 
Be  not  their  last ;  but  should  I  lose  my  life. 
Oppress’d  by  numbers  in  the  glorious  strife, 

I  choose  the  nobler  part,  and  yield  my  breath. 
Rather  than  bear  dishonour,  worse  than  death ; 

Than  see  the  hand  of  violence  invade 
The  reverend  stranger  and  the  spotless  maid; 

Than  see  the  wealth  of  kings  consumed  in  waste. 
The  drunkards  revel,  and  the  gluttons  feast.” 

Thus  he,  with  anger  flashing  from  his  eye: 
Sincere  the  youthful  hero  made  reply: 

“Nor  leagued  in  factious  arms  my  subjects  rise. 
Nor  priests  in  fabled  oracles  advise; 

Nor  are  my  brothers,  who  should  aid  my  power. 
Turn’d  mean  deserters  in  the  needful  hour. 

A-h  me!  I  boast  no  brother;  heaven  s  dread  King 
Gives  from  our  stock  an  only  branch  to  spring ; 
Alone  Laertes  reign’d  Arcesius’  heir. 

Alone  Ulysses  drew  the  vital  air; 

And  I  alone  the  bed  connubial  graced. 

An  unbless’d  offspring  of  a  sire  unbless’d ! 

Each  neighbouring  realm,  conducive  to  our  wo. 
Sends  forth  her  peers,  and  every  peer  a  foe : 

The  court  proud  Samos  and  Dulichium  fills. 

And  lofty  Zacynth,  crown’d  with  shady  hills. 

Ev’n  Ithaca  and  all  her  lords  invade 
Th’  imperial  sceptre,  and  the  regal  bed. 

The  queen,  averse  to  love,  yet  awed  by  power, 
Seems  half  to  yield,  yet  flies  the  bridal-hour: 
Meantime,  their  license  uncontrol’d  I  bear; 

Ev’n  now  they  envy  me  the  vital  air: 

But  Heaven  will  sure  revenge,  and  gods  there  are. 
But  go,  EumsBUS  I  to  the  queen  impart 
Our  safe  return,  and  ease  a  mother’s  heart. 


110 


120 


130 


140 


270 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XVI. 


Yet  secret  go;  for  numerous  are  my  foes, 

And  here  at  least  I  may  in  peace  repose.” 

To  whom  the  swain:  “I  hear,  and  I  obey: 

But  old  Laertes  weeps  his  life  away, 

And  deems  thee  lost.  Shall  I  my  speed  employ 
To  bless  his  age,  a  messenger  of  joy  ? 

The  mournful  hour  that  tore  his  son  away, 

Sent  the  sad  sire  in  solitude  to  stray: 

Yet,  busied  with  his  slaves,  to  ease  his  wo,  150 

He  dress’d  the  vine,  and  bade  the  garden  blow, 

Nor  food,  nor  wine  refused:  but  since  the  day 
That  you  to  Pylos  plough’d  the  watery  way. 

Nor  wine,  nor  food  he  tastes:  but  sunk  in  woes, 

Wild  springs  the  vine,  no  more  the  garden  blows: 

Shut  from  the  walks  of  men,  to  pleasure  lost. 

Pensive  and  pale  he  wanders  half  a  ghost.” 

“Wretched  old  man!”  with  tears  the  prince  returns: 
“Yet  cease  to  go.  What  man  so  bless’d  but  mourns? 
Were  every  wish  indulged  by  favouring  skies,  160 

This  hour  would  give  Ulysses  to  my  eyes. 

But  to  the  queen  with  speed  despatchful  bear 
Our  safe  return,  and  back  with  speed  repair; 

And  let  some  handmaid  of  her  train  resort 
To  good  Laertes  in  his  rural  court.” 

While  yet  he  spoke,  impatient  of  delay. 

He  braced  his  sandals  on,  and  strode  away: 

Then  from  the  heavens  the  martial  goddess  flies, 

Through  the  wide  fields  of  air,  and  cleaves  the  skies: 

In  form,  a  virgin  in  soft  beauty’s  bloom,  170 

Skill’d  in  th’  illustrious  labours  of  the  loom. 

Alone  to  Ithaca  she  stood  display’d. 

But  unapparent  as  a  viewless  shade 
Escaped  Telemachus:  (the  powers  above. 

Seen  or  unseen,  o’er  earth  at  pleasure  move ;) 

The  dogs  intelligent  confess’d  the  tread 
Of  power  divine,  and  howling,  trembling,  fled. 

The  goddess,  beckoning,  waves  her  deathless  hands; 
Dauntless  the  king  before  the  goddess  stands. 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XVI. 


271 


“Then  why,”  she  said,  “oh,  favour’d  of  the  skies,  180 
Why  to  thy  godlike  son  this  long  disguise? 

Stand  forth  reveal’d ;  with  him  thy  cares  employ 
Against  thy  foes ;  be  valiant,  and  destroy ! 

Lo !  I  descend  in  that  avenging  hour, 

To  combat  by  thy  side,  thy  guardian  power.” 

She  said ;  and  o’er  him  waves  her  wand  of  gold ; 
Imperial  robes  his  manly  limbs  infold ; 

At  once  with  grace  divine  his  form  improves, 

At  once  with  majesty  enlarged  he  moves ; 

Youth  flush’d  his  reddening  cheek,  and  from  his  brows  190 
A  length  of  hair  in  sable  ringlets  flows ; 

His  blackening  chin  receives  a  deeper  shade; 

Then  from  his  eyes  upsprung  the  warrior-maid. 

The  hero  reascends:  the  prince,  o’erawed. 

Scarce  lifts  his  eyes,  and  bows  as  to  a  god. 

Then  with  surprise — surprise  chastised  with  fears — 
“How  art  thou  changed!”  he  cried;  “a  god  appears! 
Far  other  vests  thy  limbs  majestic  grace. 

Far  other  glories  lighten  from  thy  face ! 

If  heaven  be  thy  abode,  with  pious  care,  200 

Lo !  I  the  ready  sacrifice  prepare : 

Lo!  gifts  of  labour’d  gold  adorn  thy  shrine. 

To  win  thy  grace.  Oh,  save  us,  power  divine!” 

“Few  are  my  days,”  Ulysses  made  reply, 

“Nor  I,  alas!  descendant  of  the  sky. 

I  am  thy  father.  Oh,  my  son !  my  son ! 

That  father,  for  whose  sake  thy  days  have  run 
One  scene  of  wo:  to  endless  cares  consign  d. 

And  outraged  by  the  wrongs  of  base  mankind.” 

Then  rushing  to  his  arms,  he  kiss’d  his  boy  21( 

With  the  strong  raptures  of  a  parent’s  joy. 

Tears  bathe  his  cheek,  and  tears  the  ground  bedew: 

He  strain’d  him  close,  as  to  his  breast  he  grew. 

“Ah  me!”  exclaims  the  prince,  with  fond  desire, 
“Thou  art  not — no — ^thou  canst  not  be  my  sire. 

Heaven  such  illusion  only  can  impose. 

By  the  false  joy  to  aggravate  my  woes. 


272 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XVI, 


Who  but  a  god  can  change  the  general  doom, 

And  give  to  wither’d  age  a  youthful  bloom? 

Late,  worn  with  years,  in  weeds  obscene  you  trod;  220 
Now,  clothed  in  majesty,  you  move  a  god!”  i 

“Forbear,”  he  cried;  “for  Heaven  reserve  that  name,' 
Give  to  thy  father  but  a  father’s  claim: 

Other  Ulysses  shalt  thou  never  see; 

I  am  Ulysses — I,  my  son,  am  he. 

Twice  ten  sad  years  o’er  earth  and  ocean  toss’d, 

’Tis  given  at  length  to  view  my  native  coast. 

Pallas,  unconquer’d  maid,  my  frame  surrounds 
With  grace  divine ;  her  power  admits  no  bounds ; 

She  o’er  my  limbs  old  age  and  wrinkles  shed ;  230 

Now  strong  as  youth,  magnificent  I  tread. 

The  gods  with  ease  frail  man  depress  or  raise, 

Exalt  the  lowly,  or  the  proud  debase.” 

He  spoke  and  sate.  The  prince  with  transport  flew, 
Hung  round  his  neck,  while  tears  his  cheek  bedew; 

Nor  less  the  father  pour’d  a  social  flood: 

They  wept  abundant,  and  they  wept  aloud. 

As  the  bold  eagle  with  fierce  sorrows  stung. 

Or  parent  vulture,  mourns  her  ravish’d  young; 

They  cry,  they  scream,  their  unfledged  brood  a  prey  240 
To  some  rude  churl,  and  borne  by  stealth  away: 

So  they  aloud ;  and  tears  in  tides  had  run. 

Their  grief  unfinish’d  with  the  setting  sun; 

But  checking  the  full  torrent  in  its  flow, 

The  prince  thus  interrupts  the  solemn  wo. 

“What  ship  transported  thee,  O  father,  say. 

And  what  bless’d  hands  have  oar’d  thee  on  thy  way?” 

“All,  all,”  Ulysses  instant  made  reply, 

“I  tell  thee  all,  my  child,  my  only  joy  I 

Phaeacians  bore  me  to  the  port  assign’d,  250 

A  nation  ever  to  the  stranger  kind; 

Wrapp’d  in  th’  embrace  of  sleep,  the  faithful  train 
O’er  seas  convey’d  me  to  my  native  reign: 

Embroider’d  vestures,  gold,  and  brass,  are  laid 
Conceal’d  in  caverns  in  the  sylvan  shade. 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XVI. 


273 


Hither,  intent  the  rival  rout  to  slay, 

And  plan  the  scene  of  death,  I  bend  my  way: 

So  Pallas  wills.  But  thou,  my  son,  explain 
The  names  and  numbers  of  th’  audacious  train; 

’Tis  mine  to  judge  if  better  to  employ  260 

Assistant  force,  or  singly  to  destroy.” 

“O’er  earth,”  returns  the  prince,  “resounds  thy  name, 
Thy  well-tried  wisdom,  and  thy  martial  fame. 

Yet  at  thy  words  I  start,  in  wonder  lost: 

Can  we  engage,  not  decades,  but  a  host? 

Can  we  alone  in  furious  battle  stand, 

Against  that  numerous  and  determined  band? 

Hear  then  their  numbers:  from  Dulichium  came 
Twice  twenty-six,  all  peers  of  mighty  name ; 

Six  are  their  menial  train:  twice  twelve  the  boast  270 
Of  Samos;  twenty  from  Zacynthus’  coast; 

And  twelve  our  country’s  pride;  to  these  belong 
Medon  and  Phemius,  skill’d  in  heavenly  song. 

Two  sewers  from  day  to  day  the  revels  wait, 

Exact  of  taste,  and  serve  the  feast  in  state. 

With  such  a  foe  th’  unequal  fight  to  try. 

Were  by  false  courage  unrevenged  to  die. 

Then  what  assistant  powers  you  boast,  relate. 

Ere  yet  we  mingle  in  the  stern  debate.” 

“Mark  well  my  voice,”  Ulysses  straight  replies;  280 
“What  need  of  aids,  if  favour’d  by  the  skies? 

If  shielded  to  the  dreadful  fight  we  move. 

By  mighty  Pallas,  and  by  thundering  Jove?” 

“Sufficient  they,”  Telemachus  rejoin’d, 

“Against  the  banded  powers  of  all  mankind: 

They,  high  enthroned  above  the  rolling  clouds, 

Wither  the  strength  of  man,  and  awe  the  gods.” 

“Such  aids  expect,”  he  cries,  “when  strong  in  might 
We  rise  terrific  to  the  task  of  fight. 

But  thou,  when  morn  salutes  th’  aerial  plain,  290 

The  court  revisit,  and  the  lawless  train : 

Me  thither  in  disguise  Eumseus  leads. 

An  aged  mendicant  in  tatter’d  weeds. 

12*  S 


274 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XVI. 


There,  if  base  scorn  insult  my  reverend  age, 

Bear  it,  my  son!  repress  thy  rising  rage.  . 

If  outraged,  cease  that  outrage  to  repel:  - 

Bear  it,  my  son  I  howe’er  thy  heart  rebel.  ’  ^ 

Yet  strive  by  prayer  and  counsel  to  restrain 
Their  lawless  insults,  though  thou  strive  in  vain ; 

For  wicked  ears  are  deaf  to  wisdom’s  call,  300 

And  vengeance  strikes  whom  Heaven  has  doom’d  to  fall.; 
Once  more  attend:  when  she*  whose  power  inspires 
The  thinking  mind,  my  soul  to  vengeance  fires ; 

I  give  the  sign;  that  instant,  from  beneath. 

Aloft  convey  the  instruments  of  death. 

Armour  and  arms ;  and  if  mistrust  arise. 

Thus  veil  the  truth  in  plausible  disguise: 

“‘These  glittering  weapons,  ere  he  sail’d  to  Troy, 
Ulysses  view’d  with  stern  heroic  joy ; 

Then,  beaming  o’er  th’  illumined  wall  they  shone;  310 
Now  dust  dishonours,  all  their  lustre  gone. 

I  bear  them  hence,  so  Jove  my  soul  inspires. 

From  the  pollution  of  the  fuming  fires ; 

Lest,  when  the  bowl  inflames,  in  vengeful  mood 
Ye  rush  to  arms,  and  stain  the  feast  with  blood: 

Oft  ready  swords  in  luckless  hour  incite 
The  hand  of  wrath,  and  arm  it  for  the  fight.’ 

“Such  be  the  plea,  and  by  the  plea  deceive; 

For  Jove  infatuates  all,  and  all  believe. 

Yet  leave  for  each  of  us  a  sword  to  wield,  320 

A  pointed  javelin,  and  a  fenceful  shield. 

But  by  my  blood  that  in  thy  bosom  glows, 

By  that  regard  a  son  his  father  owes ;  ^ 

The  secret  that  thy  father  lives,  retain. 

Lock’d  in  thy  bosom  from  the  household  train: 

Hide  it  from  all ;  ev’n  from  Eumseus  hide. 

From  my  dear  father,  and  my  dearer  bride. 

One  care  remains,  to  note  the  loyal  few 
Whose  faith  yet  lasts  among  the  menial  crew ; 


A 


*  Miiierva. 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XVI. 


2-/5 


And,  noting,  ere  we  rise  in  vengeance,  prove  330 

Who  loves  his  prince ;  for  sure  you  merit  love.” 

To  whom  the  youth:  “To  emulate  I  aim 
The  brave  and  wise,  and  my  great  father’s  fame. 

But  reconsider,  since  the  wisest  err. 

Vengeance  resolved,  ’tis  dangerous  to  defer. 

What  length  of  time  must  we  consume  in  vain, 

Too  curious  to  explore  the  menial  train? 

While  the  proud  foes,  industrious  to  destroy 
Thy  wealth  in  riot,  the  delay  enjoy. 

Suffice  it  in  this  exigence  alone  340 

To  mark  the  damsels  that  attend  the  throne: 

Dispersed  the  youth  reside ;  their  faith  to  prove 
Jove  grants  henceforth,  if  thou  hast  spoke  from  Jove.” 

While  in  debate  they  waste  their  hours  away, 

Th’  associates  of  the  prince  repass’d  the  bay ; 

With  speed  they  guide  the  vessel  to  the  shores ; 

With  speed  debarking,  land  the  naval  stores: 

Then,  faithful  to  their  charge,  to  Clytius  bear. 

And  trust  the  presents  to  his  friendly  care. 

Swift  to  the  queen  a  herald  flies  t’  impart 
Her  son’s  return,  and  ease  a  parent’s  heart; 

Lest,  a  sad  prey  to  ever-musing  cares. 

Pale  grief  destroy  what  time  awhile  forbears. 

Th’  incautious  herald  with  impatience  burns. 

And  cries  aloud:  “Thy  son,  oh  queen,  returns!” 

Eumseus  sage,  approach’d  th’  imperial  throne. 

And  breath’d  his  mandate  to  her  ear  alone. 

Then  measured  back  the  way.— The  suitor  band. 

Stung  to  the  soul,  abash’d,  confounded,  stand: 

And  issuing  from  the  dome,  before  the  gate. 

With  clouded  looks,  a  pale  assembly  sate. 

At  length  Eurymachus:  “Our  hopes  are  vain; 
Telemachus  in  triumph  sails  the  main. 

Haste,  rear  the  mast,  the  swelling  shroud  display  .^ 

Haste,  to  our  ambush’d  friends  the  news  convey  1 
Scarce  had  he  spoke,  when,  turning  to  the  stiand, 
Amphinomus  survey’d  th’  associate  band; 


350 


360 


276 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XVI. 


Full  to  the  bav  within  the  winding  shores 
With  gather'd  sails  they  stood,  and  lifted  oars: 

“Oh,  friends  T  he  crie<h  elate  with  rising  joy,  370 
“See  to  the  port  secure  the  vessel  fly! 

Some  god  has  told  them,  or  themselves  survey 
The  bark  escaped;  and  measure  back  their  way.” 

Swift  at  the  word  descending  to  the  shores. 

They  moor  the  vessel,  and  unlade  the  stores: 

Then  moving  firom  the  strand,  apart  they  sate, 

And  full  and  fi*equent,  form’d  a  dire  debate. 

“Lives  then  the  bov?” — “He  lives .f”  Antinous  cries, 
“The  care  of  gods,  and  favourite  of  the  skies. 

All  night  we  watch’d,  till  with  her  orient  wheels  .  380 

Aurora  flamed  above  the  eastern  lulls. 

And  from  the  loftv  brow  of  rocks  bv  dav 
Took  in  the  ocean  with  a  broad  survev: 

et  safe  he  sails !  the  powers  celestial  give 
To  shun  the  hidden  snares  of  death,  and  live. 

But  die  he  shall;  and  thus  condemn’d  to  bleed. 

Be  now  the  scene  of  instant  death  decreed. 

Hope  ye  success?  undaunted  crush  the  foe. 

Is  he  not  wise?  know  this,  and  strike  the  blow. 

Wait  ye,  till  he  to  arms  in  council  draws  390 

The  Greeks,  averse  too  justly  to  our  cause  ? 

Strike  ere,  the  states  convened,  the  foe  betray 
Our  murderous  ambush  on  the  waterv  wav. 

^  m 

Or  choose  ve  va^rrant  from  their  rase  to  flv. 

Outcasts  of  earth,  to  breathe  an  unknown  sky? 

The  brave  prevent  misfortune;  then  be  brave. 

And  burv  future  danger  in  his  grave. 

Returns  he?  ambush’d  well  his  walk  invade. 

Or  where  he  hides  in  solitude  and  shade ; 

And  give  the  palace  to  the  queen  a  dower,  400 

Or  lum  she  blesses  in  the  bridal-hour. 

But  if  submissive  you  resign  the  sway. 

Slaves  to  a  boy,  go,  flatter  and  obey. 

Retire  we  instant  to  our  native  reign. 

Nor  be  the  wealth  of  kings  consumed  in  vain  I 


THE  ODY55EY,  BOOK  ITI. 


Then  wed  wb'Dca  ciK?K«  the  queen  he  sfiresi 

To  some  bdess'd  tsffmr-e.  the  oriri»re  decreed  hv  HeaT-esi.* 

^  «  f0 

Alffl^'d  tbe  sEtf^r-trihi  his  voice  attends; 

Til]  from  his  thnccre  AmpciiiiC'CiGs  ascends. 

Who  o’er  Dcikssrsm  stretch'd  spacf^xs  reieri,  41# 

A  land  of  pieniy.  bie^'d  with  every  gram.; 

Chief  of  the  msmieis  dw  aueen  address' cL 

And,  tbongh  disi:-»ie.2isng,  yet  dispteasmg  least : 

Scfr  were  his  words:  h^  actjons  wistijai  swav'd: 
Gra-CJefri]  awh3e  3ae  ratsed.  then  mildlv  said: 

iL  W 

friends,  iorheari  and  be  the  thoaght  wrtihstc»c»d! 
Tis  bornbie  to  sbed  imperial 
Coci5u]t  we  frrst.  lii’  aZ-seeing  power?  above. 

And  the  sure  cranes  oi  righteijos  Jove. 

L’  thev  asen**,  eVzj  cv  this  hand  he  dies ;  43^ 

•  •  •  ' 

If  thev  ibrbad,  I  war  lot't  with  the  skies.*' 

* 

He  said:  the  liral  train  his  voice  approved. 

And  risng  instant  to  the  palace  moved. 

AmTed.  with  wiid  tmmltcofts  noise  thev  sate. 

«a> 

Recumbent  cci  the  shining'  thrones  of  state. 

Then  onascSa^rs  of  their  dire  debates. 

The  mnrdeixyns  cocnsei  to  the  queen  relates. 

Tcjoch'd  at  the  dieadfhi  sti^ry,  she  tiescends: 

Her  hasnr  stens  a  damsel-train  arten*is. 

*  ^ 

Full  where  the  docae  its  shfrrng  valves  eipandsv  4^ 
Sodden  before  the  rival  D*?wer?  she  stands; 

And.  veiling  decent  with  a  modest  shade 
Her  cheek,  mdigtnam  to  Anrznocs  said : 

■“Ob,  void  o£ frith!  of  aE  bad  men  the  worst! 

Renown'd  for  wisdocn.  by  th'  abase  a«rcnr?eti! 

Mistakinz  Fame  r^r^riaims  thv  zenecxis  mmd! 

Thv  deeds  dencte  thee  of  the  basest  kind. 

* 

Wietda!  to  desirDv  a  n^ce  that  iHendsfaic  zives. 

While  in  his  gnest  his  inarierer  he  receives; 

Nor  dread  ssipeiifCi  Jove,  to  whom  beiong 
The  cncse  of  scgnp^tants.  and  revenge  of  wrcng. 

Hast  thc*a  ic»rg?t.  ntgratefisi  as  tiioa  art. 

Who  saved  iby  frifeer  with  a  friendly  part  ? 


440 


278  the  odyssey,  BOOK  XVI. 

Lawless  he  ravaged  with  his  martial  powers 
The  Taphian  pirates  on  Thesprotia’s  shores; 

Enraged,  his  life,  his  treasures  they  demand; 

Ulysses  saved  him  from  th’  avenger’s  hand. 

And  would’st  thou  evil  for  his  good  repay  ? 

His  bed  dishonour,  and  his  house  betray? 

Afflict  his  queen,  and  with  a  murderous  hand  450 

Destroy  his  heir? — But  cease!  ’tis  I  command.” 

“Far  hence  those  fears,”  Eurymachus  replied; 

Oh,  prudent  princess  1  bid  thy  soul  confide. 

Breathes  there  a  man  who  dares  that  hero  slay, 

While  I  behold  the  golden  light  of  day? 

No:  by  the  righteous  powers  of  Heaven  I  swear. 

His  blood  in  vengeance  smokes  upon  my  spear. 

Ulysses,  when  my  infant  days  I  led. 

With  wane  sufficed  me,  and  with  dainties  fed: 

My  generous  soul  abhors  th’  ungrateful  part,  460 

And  my  friend’s  son  lives  dearest  to  my  heart: 

Then  fear  no  mortal  arm;  if  Heaven  destroy, 

,  We  must  resign:  for  man  is  born  to  die.” 

Thus  smooth  he  ended,  yet  his  death  conspired. 

Then  sorrowing,  with  sad  step  the  queen  retired ; 

With  streaming  eyes,  all  comfortless  deplored. 

Touch’d  with  the  dear  remembrance  of  her  lord; 

Nor  ceased  till  Pallas  bid  her  sorrows  ffy. 

And  in  soft  slumbers  seal’d  her  ffowing  eye. 

And  now  Eumseus,  at  the  evening  hour,  470 

Came  late  returning  to  his  sylvan  bower. 

Ulysses  and  his  son  had  dress’d  with  art 
A  yearling  boar,  and  gave  the  gods  their  part : 

Holy  repast!  That  instant  from  the  skies 
The  martial  goddess  to  Ulysses  flies : 

She  waves  her  golden  wand,  and  reassumes 
From  every  feature,  every  grace  that  blooms: 

At  once  his  vestures  change ;  at  once  she  sheds 
Age  o’er  his  limbs,  that  tremble  as  he  treads ; 

Lest  to  the  queen  the  swain  with  transport  ffy,  480 

Unable  to  contain  th’  unruly  joy. 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XVI. 


279 


When  near  he  drew,  the  prince  breaks  forth:  “Proclaim 
What  tidings,  friend?  what  speaks  the  voice  of  fame? 
Say,  if  the  suitors  measure  back  the  main. 

Or  still  in  ambush  thirst  for  blood  in  vain?” 

“Whether,”  he  cries  “they  measure  back  the  flood, 

Or  still  in  ambush  thirst  in  vain  for  blood. 

Escaped  my  care:  where  lawless  suitors  sway. 

Thy  mandate  borne,  my  soul  disdain’d  to  stay: 

But  from  the  Hermsean  height  l  east  a  view,  490 

Where  to  the  port  a  bark  high-bounding  flew ; 

Her  freight  a  shining  band :  with  martial  air 
Each  poised  his  shield,  and  each  advanced  his  spear; 

And,  if  aright  these  searching  eyes  survey, 

Th’  eluded  suitors  stem  the  watery  way.” 

The  prince,  well  pfeased  to  disappoint  their  wiles, 
Steals  on  his  sire  a  glance,  and  secret  smiles. 

And  now,  a  short  repast  prepared,  they  fed 
Till  the  keen  rage  of  craving  hunger  fled: 

Then  to  repose  withdrawn,  apart  they  lay-,  500 

And  in  soft  sleep  forgot  the  cares  of  day. 


1 


\ 


BOOK  XVII. 

A 

Travels  of  Telemachus;  Behaviour  of  the  Suitors  towards  Ulysses. 

Argument. — Telemachus,  returning-  to  the  city,  relates  to  Penelopd  the  sum 
of  his  travels.  Ulysses  is  conducted  by  Eumseus  to  the  palace,  where  his 
old  dog-  Arg-us  acknowledges  his  master,  after  an  absence  of  twenty  years, 
and  dies  with  joy.  Eumseus  returns  into  the  country,  and  Ulysses  remains 
among  the  suitors,  whose  behaviour  is  described. 

Soon  as  Aurora,  daughter  of  the  dawn, 

Sprinkled  with  roseate  light  the  dewy  lawn ; 

In  haste  the  prince  arose,  prepared  to  part; 

His  hand  impatient  grasps  the  pointed  dart ; 

Fair  on  his  feet  the  polish’d  sandals  shine, 

"  And  thus  he  greets  the  master  of  the  swine : 

"‘My  friend,  adieu;  let  this  short  stay  suffice; 

I  haste  to  meet  my  mother’s  longing  eyes. 

And  end  her  tears,  her  sorrows,  and  her  sighs. 

But  thou,  attentive,  what  we  order  heed:  10 

This  hapless  stranger  to  the  city  lead ; 

By  public  bounty  let  him  there  be  fed. 

And  bless  the  hand  that  stretches  forth  the  bread. 

To  wipe  the  tears  from  all  afflicted  eyes. 

My  will  may  covet,  but  my  power  denies. 

If  this  raise  anger  in  the  stranger’s  thought. 

The  pain  of  anger  punishes  the  fault: 

The  very  truth  I  undisguised  declare ; 

For  what  so  easy  as  to  be  sincere?”  ^ 

To  this  Ulysses:  “What  the  prince  requires  20 

Of  swift  removal,  seconds  my  desires.  ^ 

To  want  like  mine  the  peopled  town  can  yield 
More  hopes  of  comfort  than  the  lonely  field; 

Nor  fits  my  age  to  till  the  labour’d  lands. 

Or  stoop  to  tasks  a  rural  lord  demands.  ^ 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XVII. 


281 


Adieu !  but  since  this  ragged  garb  can  bear 
So  ill  th’  inclemencies  of  morning  air, 

A  few  hours’  space  permit  me  here  to  stay ; 

My  steps  Eumseus  shall  to  town  convey, 

With  riper  beams  when  Phoebus  warms  the  day.”  30 
Thus  he;  nor  aught  Telemachus  replied. 

But  left  the  mansion  with  a  lofty  stride: 

Schemes  of  revenge  his  pondering  breast  elate. 

Revolving  deep  the  suitors’  sudden  fate. 

Arriving  now  before  th’  imperial  hall. 

He  props  his  spear  against  the  pillar’d  wall ; 

Then  like  a  lion  o’er  the  threshold  bounds; 

The  marble  pavement  with  his  step  resounds; 

His  eye  first  glanced  where  Euryclea  spreads 

With  furry  spoils  of  beasts  the  splendid  beds:  40 

She  saw,  she  wept,  she  ran  with  eager  pace. 

And  reach’d  her  master  with  a  long  embrace. 

All  crowded  round,  the  family  appears 
With  wild  entrancement  and  ecstatic  tears; 

Swift  from  above  descends  the  royal  fair, 

(Her  beauteous  cheeks  the  blush  of  Venus  wear. 
Chasten’d  with  coy  Diana’s  pensive  air;) 

Plangs  o’er  her  son,  in  his  embraces  dies ; 

Rains  kisses  on  his  neck,  his  face,  his  eyes: 

Few  words  she  spoke,  though  much  she  had  to  say;  50 
And  scarce  those  few,  for  tears,  could  force  their  way : 

“  Light  of  my  eyes !  he  comes !  unhoped-for  joy ! 

Has  Heaven  from  Pylos  brought  my  lovely  boy?/ 

So  snatch’d  from  all  our  cares ! — Tell,  hast  thou  known 
Thy  father’s  fate?  and  tell  me  all  thy  own.” 

“  Oh,  dearest !  most  revered  of  woman-kind  ! 

Cease  with  those  tears  to  melt  a  manly  mind,” 

Replied  the  prince:  “nor  be  our  fates  deplored. 

From  death  and  treason  to  thy  arms  restored. 

Go  bathe,  and,  robed  in  white,  ascend  the  towers,  GO 
With  ail  thy  handmaids  thank  th’  immortal  powers; 

To  every  god  vow  hecatombs  to  bleed. 

And  call  Jove’s  vengeance  on  their  guilty  deed: 


282 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XVII. 


While  to  th’  assembled  council  I  repair ; 

A  stranger  sent  by  Heaven  attends  me  there ; 

My  new-accepted  guest  I  haste  to  find, 

Now  to  Peiraeus’  honour’d  charge  consign’d.” 

The  matron  heard,  nor  was  his  word  in  vain. 

She  bathed ;  and,  robed  in  white,  with  all  her  train. 

To  every  god  vow’d  hecatombs  to  bleed,  "7 

And  call’d  Jove’s  vengeance  on  the  guilty  deed. 

Arm’d  with  his  lance,  the  prince  then  pass’d  the  gate: 
Two  dogs  behind,  a  faithful  guard,  await ;  ' 

Pallas  his  form  with  grace  divine  improves: 

The  gazing  crowd  admires  him  as  he  moves: 

Him,  gathering  round,  the  haughty  suitors  greet 
With  semblance  fair,  but  inward  deep  deceit. 

Their  false  addresses  generous  he  denied. 

Pass’d  on,  and  sate  by  faithful  Mentor’s  side ; 

With  Antiphus,  and  Halithersus  sage,  ^ 

His  father’s  counsellors,  revered  for  age. 

Of  his  own  fortunes,  and  Ulysses’  fame. 

Much  ask’d  the  seniors ;  till  PeirsBUs  came. 


The  stranger-guest  pursued  him  close  behind ; 

Whom,  when  Telemachus  beheld,  he  join’d. 

He  (when  Peirseus  asked  for  slaves  to  bring 
The  gifts  and  treasures  of  the  Spartan  king) 

Thus  thoughtful  answer’d:  ‘‘Those  we  shall  not  move. 
Dark  and  unconscious  of  the  will  of  Jove: 

We  know  not  yet  the  full  event  of  all: 

Stabb’d  in  his  palace  if  your  prince  must  fall, 

Us,  and  our  house,  if  treason  must  o’erthrow, 

Better  a  friend  possess  them  than  a  foe; 

If  death  to  these,  and  vengeance  Heaven  decree. 
Riches  are  welcome  then,  not  else  to  me. 

Till  then  retain  the  gifts.”— The  hero  said. 

And  in  his  hand  the  willing  stranger  led. 

Then,  disarray’d,  the  shining  bath  they  sought, 

(With  unguents  smooth,)  of  polish’d  marble  wrought; 
Obedient  handmaids  with  assistant  toil 
Supply  the  limpid  wave,  and  fragrant  oil: 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XVII. 


283 


Then  o'er  their  limbs  refulgent  robes  they  threw, 

And  fresh  from  bathing  to  their  seats  withdrew ; 

The  golden  ewer  a  nymph  attendant  brings, 

Replenish’d  from  the  pure,  translucent  springs ; 

With  copious  streams  that  golden  ewer  supplies 
A  silver  laver  of  capacious  size. 

They  wash:  the  table,  in  fair  order  spread. 

Is  piled  with  viands  and  the  strength  of  bread. 

Full  opposite,  before  the  folding-gate,  110 

The  pensive  mother  sits  in  humble  state; 

Lowly  she  sate,  and  with  dejected  view 
The  fleecy  threads  her  ivory  fingers  drew.  . 

The  prince  and  stranger  shared  the  genial  feast, 

Till  now  the  rage  of  thirst  and  hunger  ceased. 

When  thus  the  queen:  “My  son!  my  only  friend! 

Say,  to  my  mournful  couch  shall  I  ascend? 

(The  couch  deserted  now  a  length  of  years ; 

The  couch  for  ever  water’d  with  my  tears ;) 

Say,  wilt  thou  not — ere  yet  the  suitor-crew  120 

Return,  and  riot  shakes  our  walls  anew — 

Say,  wilt  thou  not  the  least  account  afford? 

The  least  glad  tidings  of  my  absent  lord?” 

To  her  the  youth:  “We  reach’d  the  Pylian  plains. 
Where  Nestor,  shepherd  of  his  people,  reigns. 

All  arts  of  tenderness  to  him  are  known. 

Kind  to  Ulysses’  race  as  to  his  own; 

No  father  with  a  fonder  grasp  of  joy 
Strains  to  his  bosom  his  long-absent  boy. 

But  all  unknown,  if  yet  Ulysses  breathe,  130 

Or  glide  a  spectre  in  the  realms  beneath ; 

For  farther  search,  his  rapid  steeds  transport 
My  lengthen’d  journey  to  the  Spartan  court. 

There  Argive  Helen  I  beheld,  ’whose  charms 
(So  Heaven  decreed)  engaged  the  great  in  arms. 

My  cause  of  coming  told,  he  thus  rejoin’d; 

And  still  his  words  live  perfect  in  my  mind: 

“‘Heavens!  would  a  soft,  inglorious,  dastard  train 
An  absent  hero’s  nuptial  joys  profane ! 


284 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XVII. 


So  with  her  young,  amid  the  woodland  shades,  140  : 

A  timorous  hind  the  lion’s  court  invades, 

Leaves  in  that  fatal  lair  her  tender  fawns ; 

And  climbs  the  cliff,  or  feeds  among  the  lawns; 

Meantime,  returning,  with  remorseless  sway  : 

The  monarch  savage  rends  the  panting  prey: 

With  equal  fury,  and  with  equal  fame,  ’  : 

Shall  great  Ulysses  reassert  his  claim. 

Oh,  Jove  supreme!  whom  men  and  go'ds  revere! 

And  thou  whose  lustre  gilds  the  rolling  sphere, 

With  power  congenial  join’d,  propitious  aid  150 

The  chief  adop)ted  by  the  martial  maid ! 

Such  to  our  wish  the  warrior  soon  restore. 

As  when,  contending  on  the  Lesbian  shore. 

His  prowess  Philomelides  confess’d, 

And  loud-acclaiming  Greeks  the  victor  bless’d : 

Then  soon  th’  invaders  of  his  bed  and  throne. 

Their  love  presumptuous  shall  by  death  atone. 

Now  what  you  question  of  my  ancient  friend. 

With  truth  I  answer:  thou  the  truth  attend. 

Learn  what  I  heard  the  sea-born  seer*  relate,  160 

Whose  eyes  can  pierce  the  dark  recess  of  fate. 

Sole  in  an  isle,  imprison’d  by  the  main, 

The  sad  survivor  of  his  numerous  train, 

Ulysses  lies:  detain’d  by  magic  charms. 

And  press’d  unwilling  in  Calypso’s  arms. 

No  sailors  there,  no  vessels  to  convey. 

Nor  oars  to  cut  th’  immeasurable  way.’ — 

This  told  Atrides,  and  he  told  no  more ; 

Thence  safe  I  voyaged  to  my  native  shore.” 

He  ceased;  nor  made  the  pensive  queen  reply,  170 
But  droop’d  her  head,  and  drew  a  secret  sigh. 

When  Theocly menus  the  seer  began: 

“  Oh,  suffering  consort  of  the  suffering  man ! 

What  human  knowledge  could,  those  kings  might  tell ; 
But  I  the  secrets  of  high  Heaven  reveal. 


^  Proteus. 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XVil. 


285 


Before  the  first  of  gods  be  this  declared, 

Before  the  board  whose  blessing  we  have  shared; 

Witness  the  genial  rites,  and  witness  all 
This  house  holds  sacred  in  her  ample  wall ! 

Ev’n  now,  this  instant,  great  Ulysses,  laid  180 

At  rest,  or  wandering  in  his  country’s  shade. 

Their  guilty  deeds,  in  hearing  and  in  view, 

Secret  revolves !  and  plans  the  vengeance  due. 

Of  this,  sure  auguries  the  gods  bestow’d. 

When  first  our  vessel  anchor’d  in  your  road.” 

“Succeed  those  omens.  Heaven!”  the  queen  rejoin’d; 
“So  shall  our  bounties  speak  a  grateful  mind; 

And  every  envied  happiness  attend 
The  man  who  calls  Penelop6  his  friend.” 

Thus  communed  they;  while  in  the  marble  court  190 
(Scene  of  their  insolence)  the  lords  resort; 

Athwart  the  spacious  square  each  tries  his  art 
To  whirl  the  disc,  or  aim  the  missile  dart. 

Now  did  the  hour  of  sweet  repast  arrive. 

And  from  the  field  the  victim  flocks  they  drive: 

Medon  the  herald,  (one  who  pleased  them  best. 

And  honour’d  with  a  portion  of  their  feast,) 

To  bid  the  banquet,  interrupts  their  play: 

Swift  to  the  hall  they  haste ;  aside  they  lay 

Their  garments,  and  succinct  the  victims  slay.  200 

Then  sheep,  and  goats,  and  bristly  porkers  bled. 

And  the  proud  steer  was  o’er  the  marble  spread. 

While  thus  the  copious  banquet  they  provide ; 

Along  the  road,  conversing  side  by  side, 

Proceed  Ulysses  and  the  faithful  swain ; 

When  thus  Eumseus,  generous  and  humane : 

“  To  town,  observant  of  our  lord’s  behest. 

Now  let  us  speed;  my  friend,  no  more  my  guest! 

Yet  like  myself  I  wish  thee  here  preferr’d. 

Guard  of  the  flock,  or  keeper  of  the  herd.  210 

But  much  to  raise  my  master’s  wrath  I  fear ; 

The  wrath  of  princes  ever  is  severe. 


286 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XVII. 


Then  heed  his  will,  and  be  our  journey  made 
While  the  broad  beams  of  Phcebus  are  display’d, 

Or  ere  brown  evening  spreads  her  chilly  shade.” 

“Just  thy  advice,”  the  prudent  chief  rejoin’d, 

“And  such  as  suits  the  dictate  of  my  mind. 

Lead  on,  but  help  me  to  some  staff,  to  stay 
My  feeble  step,  since  rugged  is  the  way.” 

Across  his  shoulders  then  the  scrip  he  flung,  220 

Wide-patched,  and  fasten’d  by  a  twisted  thong. 

A  staff  Eumseus  gave.  Along  the  way 
Cheerly  they  fare:  behind  the  keepers  stay; 

These  with  their  watchful  dogs  (a  constant  guard) 

Supply  his  absence,  and  attend  the  herd. 

And  now  his  city  strikes  the  monarch’s  eyes, 

Alas !  how  changed !  a  man  of  miseries ; 

Propp’d  on  a  staff,  a  beggar,  old  and  bare. 

In  rags  dishonest,  fluttering  with  the  air ! 

Now  pass’d  the  rugged  road,  they  journey  down,  230 
The  cavern’d  way  descending  to  the  town. 

Where  from  the  rock,  with  liquid  lapse  distils 
A  limpid  fount,  that,  spread  in  parting  rills,  ; 

Its  current  thence  to  serve  the  city  brings ; 

A  useful  work,  adorn’d  by  ancient  kings. 

Neritos,  Ithacus,  Polyctor  there. 

In  sculptured  stone,  immortalized  their  care ; 

In  marble  urns  received  it  from  above. 

And  shaded  with  a  green  surrounding  grove ; 

Where  silver  alders,  in  high  arches  twined,  240 

Drink  the  cold  stream,  and  tremble  to  the  wind. 

Beneath,  sequester’d  to  the  nymphs,  is  seen 
A  mossy  altar,  deep  embower’d  in  green; 

Where  constant  vows  by  travellers  are  paid. 

And  holy  horrors  solemnize  the  shade. 

Here  with  his  goats  (not  vow’d  to  sacred  flame, 

But  pamper’d  luxury,)  Melanthius  came: 

Two  grooms  attend  him.  With  an  envious  look 
He  eyed  the  stranger,  and  imperious  spoke: 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XVII. 


287 


“The  good  old  proverb  how  this  pair  fulfil!  250 

One  rogue  is  usher  to  another  still. 

Heaven  with  a  secret  principle  endued 
Mankind  to  seek  their  own  similitude. 

Where  goes  the  swineherd  with  that  ill-look’d  guest? 
That  giant-glutton,  dreadful  at  a  feast! 

Full  many  a  post  have  those  broad  shoulders  worn, 

From  every  great  man’s  gate  repulsed  with  scorn: 

To  no  brave  prize  aspired  the  worthless  swain, 

’Twas  but  for  scraps  he  ask’d,  and  ask’d  in  vain.- 
To  beg  than  work  he  better  understands,  2G0 

Or  we,  perhaps,  might  take  him  off  thy  hands. 

For  any  office  could  the  slave  be  good. 

To  cleanse  the  fold,  or  help  the  kids  to  food; 

If  any  labour  those  big  joints  could  learn. 

Some  whey,  to  wash  his  bowels,  he  might  earn. 

To  cringe,  to  whine,  his  idle  hands  to  spread. 

Is  all,  by  which  that  graceless  maw  is  fed. 

Yet  hear  me!  if  thy  impudence  but  dare 
Approach  yon  walls,  I  prophesy  thy  fare : 

Dearly,  full  dearly,  shalt  thou  buy  thy  bread,  270 

With  many  a  footstool  thundering  at  thy  head.” 

He  thus:  nor  insolent  of  word  alone. 

Spurn’d  with  his  rustic  heel  his  king  unknown; 

Spurn’d,  but  not  moved;  he  like  a  pillar  stood. 

Nor  stirr’d  an  inch,  contemptuous,  from  the  road: 
Doubtful,  or  with  his  staff  to  strike  him  dead. 

Or  greet  the  pavement  with  his  worthless  head. 

Short  was  that  doubt:  to  quell  his  rage  inured. 

The  hero  stood  self-conquer’d,  and  endured. 

But  hateful  of  the  wretch,  Eumasus  heaved  280 

His  hands  obtesting,  and  this  prayer  conceived :  • 
“Daughters  of  Jove!  who  from  th’  ethereal  bowers 
Descend  to  swell  the  springs,  and  feed  the  flowers ! 
Nymphs  of  this  fountain!  to  whose  sacred  names 
Our  rural  victims  mount  in  blazing  flames ; 

To  whom  Ulysses’  piety  preferr’d 

The  yearly  firstlings  of  his  flock  and  herd: 


288 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XVII. 


Succeed  my  wish,  your  votary  restore; 

Oh,  be  some  god  his  convoy  to  our  shore ! 

Due  pains  shall  punish  then  this  slave’s  offence,  290 

And  humble  all  his  airs  of  insolence,  ^ 

Who,  proudly  stalking,  leaves  the  herds  at  large,  h 

Commences  courtier,  and  neglects  his  charge.” 

“What  mutters  he?”  Melanthius  sharp  rejoins; 

“This  crafty  miscreant,  big  with  dark  designs? 

The  day  shall  come — nay,  ’tis  already  near — 

When,  slave !  to  sell  thee  at  a  price  too  dear. 

Must  be  my  care;  and  hence  transport  thee  o’er, 

A  load  and  scandal  to  this  happy  shore. 

Oh !  that  as  surely  great  Apollo’s  dart,  300 

Or  some  brave  suitor’s  sword,  might  pierce  the  heart 
Of  the  proud  son,  as  that  we  stand  this  hour 
In  lasting  safety  from  the  father’s  power!” 

So  spoke  the  wretch;  but,  shunning  farther  fray. 

Turn’d  his  proud  step,  and  left  them  on  their  way. 
Straight  to  the  feastful  palace  he  repair’d. 

Familiar  enter’d,  and  the  banquet  shared ; 

Beneath  Eurymachus,  his  patron  lord. 

He  took  his  place,  and  plenty  heap’d  the  board. 

Meantime,  they  heard,  soft-circling  in  the  sky,  310 
Sweet  airs  ascend,  and  heavenly  minstrelsy; 

(For  Phemius  to  the  lyre  attuned  the  strain:) 

Ulysses  hearken’d,  then  address’d  the  swain: 

“Well  may  this  palace  admiration  claim, 

Great,  and  respondent  to  the  master’s  fame  I 
Stage  above  stage  th’  imperial  structure  stands. 

Holds  the  chief  honours,  and  the  town  commands : 

High  walls  and  battlements  the  courts  enclose. 

And  the  strong  gates  defy  a  host  of  foes. 

Far  other  cares  its  dwellers  now  employ;  320 

The  throng’d  assembly  and  the  feast  of  joy: 

I  see  the  smokes  of  sacrifice  aspire, 

And  hear  (what  graces  every  feast)  the  lyre,” 

Then  thus  Eumaeus;  “Judge  we  which  were  best; 
Amidst  yon  revellers  a  sudden  guest 


289 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XVII. 

Choose  you  to  mingle,  while  behind  I  stay? 

Or  I  first  entering  introduce  the  way? 

Wait  for  a  space  without,  but  wait  not  long; 

This  is  the  house  of  violence  and  wrong: 

Some  rude  insult  thy  reverend  age  may  bear;  330 

For  like  their  lawless  lords  the  servants  are.” 

“Just  is,  oh  friend!  thy  caution,  and  address’d” 
(Replied  the  chief)  “to  no  unheedful  breast; 

The  wrongs  and  injuries  of  base  mankind 
Fresh  to  my  sense,  and  always  in  my  mind. 

The  bravely-patient  to  no  fortune  yields:  . 

On  rolling  oceans,  and  in  fighting  fields. 

Storms  have  I  pass’d,  and  many  a  stern  debate; 

And  now  in  humbler  scene  submit  to  fate. 

What  cannot  Want?  The  bless’d  she  will  expose,  340 
And  I  am  learn’d  in  all  her  train  of  woes; 

I  She  fills  with  navies,  hosts,  and  loud  alarms. 

The  sea,  the  land,  and  shakes  the  world  with  arms!” 

Thus  near  the  gates  conferring  as  they  drew, 

Argus,  the  dog,  his  ancient  master  knew; 

He,  not  unconscious  of  the  voice  and  tread. 

Lifts  to  the  sound  his  ear,  and  rears  his  head; 

I  Bred  by  Ulysses,  nourish’d  at  his  board, 

IBut,  ah!  not  fated  long  to  please  his  lord! 

'  To  him,  his  swiftness  and  his  strength  were  vain;  350 
'  The  voice  of  glory  call’d  him  o’er  the  main. 

'  Till  then,  in  every  sylvan  chase  renown’d, 

'With  Argus!  Argus!  rung  the  woods  around; 

'  With  him  the  youth  pursued  the  goat  or  fawn, 

( Or  traced  the  mazy  leveret  o’er  the  lawn. 

I  Now,  left  to  man’s  ingratitude,  he  lay 
I  Unhoused,  neglected,  in  the  public  way; 
yAnd  where  on  heaps  the  rich  manure  was  spread, 
(Obscene  with  reptiles,  took  his  sordid  bed. 

He  knew  his  lord:  he  knew,  and  strove  to  meet;  350 
lln  vain  he  strove  to  crawl,  and  kiss  his  feet; 

]Yet  (all  he  could)  his  tail,  his  ears,  his  eyes, 

^Salute  his  master,  and  confess  his  joys. 

13  T 


290 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XVII. 


Soft  pity  touch’d  the  mighty  master’s  soul ; 

Adown  his  cheek  a  tear  unbidden  stole— 

Stole  unperceived;  he  turn’d  his  head,  and  dried 
The  drop  humane :  then  thus  impassion’d  cried : 

“What  noble  beast  in  this  abandon’d  state 
Lies  here  all  helpless  at  Ulysses’  gate? 

His  bulk  and  beauty  speak  no  vulgar  praise ;  370 

If  as  he  seems  he  was  in  better  days, 

Some  care  his  age  deserves;  or  was  he  prized 
For  worthless  beauty?  therefore  now  despised! 

Such  dogs  and  men  there  are,  mere  things  of  state. 

And  always  cherish’d  by  their  friends,  the  great.” 

“Not  Argus  so,”  Eumseus  thus  rejoin’d; 

“But  served  a  master  of  a  nobler  kind, 

Who  never,  never,  shall  behold  him  more  1 

Long,  long  since  perish’d  on  a  distant  shore  1 

Oh,  had  you  seen  him,  vigorous,  bold,  and  young,  380 

Swift  as  a  stag,  and  as  a  lion  strong ; 

Him  no  fell  savage  on  the  plain  withstood. 

None  ’scaped  him  bosom’d  in  the  gloomy  wood ; 

His  eye,  how  piercing !  and  his  scent,  how  true ! 

To  wind  the  vapour  in  the  tainted  dew  1 
Such,  when  Ulysses  left  his  natal  coast: 

Now  years  unnerve  him,  and  his  lord  is  lost  I 
The  women  keep  the  generous  creature  bare, 

A  sleek  and  idle  race  is  all  their  care : 

The  master  gone,  the  servants  what  restrains?  390 

Or  dwells  humanity  where  riot  reigns? 

Jove  fix’d  it  certain,  that  whatever  day 
Makes  man  a  slave,  takes  half  his  worth  away.” 

This  said,  the  honest  herdsman  strode  before; 

The  musing  monarch  pauses  at  the  door: 

The  dog,  whom  Fate*  had  granted  to  behold 
His  lord,  when  twenty  tedious  years  had  roll’d. 

Takes  a  last  look,  and,  having  seen  him,  dies ; 

So  closed  for  ever  faithful  Argus’  eyes! 

And  now  Telemachus,  the  first  of  all,  400 

Observed  Euma3us  entering  in  the  hall ; 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XVII. 


291 


Distant  he  saw,  across  the  shady  dome; 

Then  gave  a  sign,  and  beckon’d  him  to  come: 

There  stood  an  empty  seat,  where  late  was  placed, 

In  order  due,  the  steward  of  the  feast. 

Who  now  was  busied  carving  round  the  board; 

Eumaeus  took,  and  placed  it  near  his  lord. 

Before  him  instant  was  the  banquet  spread, 

And  the  bright  basket  piled  with  loaves  of  bread. 

Next  came  Ulysses  lowly  at  the  door,  410 

A  figure  despicable,  old,  and  poor. 

In  squalid  vests,  with  many  a  gaping  rent, 

Propp’d  on  a  staflj  and  trembling  as  he  went. 

Then,  resting  on  the  threshold  of  the  gate. 

Against  a  cypress  pillar  lean’d  his  weight, 

(Smoothed  by  the  workman  to  a  polish’d  plain:) 

The  thoughtful  son  beheld,  and  call’d  his  swain: 

“These  viands  and  this  bread,  Eumaeus!  bear. 

And  let  yon  mendicant  our  plenty  share: 

Then  let  him  circle  round  the  suitor’s  board,  420 

And  try  the  bounty  of  each  gracious  lord. 

Bold  let  him  act,  encouraged  thus  by  me: 

How  ill,  alas  I  do  want  and  shame  agree !” 

His  lord’s  command  the  faithful  servant  bears ; 

The  seeming  beggar  answers  with  his  prayers: 

“Bless’d  be  Telemachus!  in  every  deed 
Inspire  him,  Jove!  in  every  wish  succeed!” 

This  said,  the  portion  from  his  son  convey’d. 

With  smiles  receiving  on  his  scrip  he  laid. 

Long  as  the  minstrel  swept  the  sounding  wire,  430 

He  fed,  and  ceased  when  silence  held  the  lyre. 

Soon  as  the  suitors  from  the  banquet  rose, 

Minerva  prompts  the  man  of  mighty  woes 
To  tempt  their  bounties  with  a  suppliant’s  art. 

And  learn  the  generous  from  th’  ignoble  heart ; 

(Not  but  his  soul,  resentful  as  humane. 

Dooms  to  full  vengeance  all  th’  offending  train :) 

With  speaking  eyes,  and  voice  of  plaintive  sound, 

Humble  he  moves,  imploring  all  around. 


292 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XVII. 


The  proud  feel  pity,  and  relief  bestow,  440 

With  such  an  image  touch’d  of  human  wo ; 

Inquiring  all,  their  wonder  they  confess, 

And  eye  the  man,  majestic  in  distress. 

While  thus  they  gaze,  and  question  with  their  eyes, 

The  bold  Melanthius  to  their  thought  replies: 

“My  lords!  this  stranger  of  gigantic  port 
The  good  Eumseus  usher’d  to  your  court. 

Full  well  I  mark’d  the  features  of  his  face. 

Though  all  unknown  his  clime,  or  noble  race.” 

“And  is  this  present,  swineherd!  of  thy  hand?  450 
Bring’st  thou  these  vagrants  to  infest  the  land?” 

Returns  Antinoiis,  with  retorted  eye : 

“Objects  uncouth,  to  check  the  genial  joy? 

Enough  of  these  our  court  already  grace, 

Of  giant  stomach,  and  of  famish’d  face. 

Such  guests  Eumseus  to  his  country  brings. 

To  share  our  feast,  and  lead  the  life  of  kings.” 

To  whom  the  hospitable  swain  rejoin’d: 

“Thy  passion,  prince,  belies  thy  knowing  mind. 

Who  calls,  from  distant  nations  to  his  own,  4G0 

The  poor,  distinguish’d  by  their  wants  alone? 

Round  the  wide  world  are  sought  those  men  divine 
Who  public  structures  raise,  or  who  design: 

Those  to  whose  eyes  the  gods  their  ways  reveal. 

Or  bless  with  salutary  arts  to  heal ; 

But  chief  to  poets  such  respect  belongs. 

By  rival  nations  courted  for  their  songs ; 

These  states  invite,  and  mighty  kings  admire. 

Wide  as  the  sun  displays  his  vital  fire. 

It  is  not  so  with  want !  how  few  that  feed  470 

A  wretch  unhappy,  merely  for  his  need ! 

Unjust  to  me,  and  all  that  serve  the  state. 

To  love  Ulysses,  is  to  raise  thy  hate. 

For  me,  suffice  the  approbation  won 
Of  my  great  mistress  and  her  godlike  son.” 

To  him  Telemachus:  “No  more  incense 
The  man  by  nature  prone  to  insolence : 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XVII. 


203 


Injurious  minds  just  answers  but  provoke.’^ 

Then  turning  to  Antinous,  thus  he  spoke: 

“Thanks  to  thy  care!  whose  absolute  command  480 
Thus  drives  the  stranger  from  our  court  and  land. 
Heaven  bless  its  owner  with  a  better  mind  1 
From  envy  free,  to  charity  inclined. 

This  both  Penelop^  and  I  afford: 

Then,  prince  I  be  bounteous  of  Ulysses’  board. 

To  give  another’s  is  thy  hand  so  slow? 

So  much  more  sweet  to  spoil  than  to  bestow?” 

“Whence,  great  Telemachus I  this  lofty  strain?” 

I  Antinous  cries,  with  insolent  disdain: 

“Portions  like  mine  if  every  suitor  gave,  490 

Our  wall  this  twelvemonth  should  not  see  the  slave.” 

He  spoke ;  and  lifting  high  above  the  board 
His  ponderous  footstool,  shook  it  at  his  lord. 

The  rest  with  equal  hand  conferred  the  bread ; 

He  fill’d  his  scrip,  and  to  the  threshold  sped ; 

But  first  before  Antinous  stopp’d,  and  said: 

“  Bestow,  my  friend  1  thou  dost  not  seem  the  worst 
Of  all  the  Greeks,  but  prince-like  and  the  first ; 

Then,  as  in  dignity,  be  first  in  worth. 

And  I  shall  praise  thee  through  the  boundless  earth.  500 

Once  I  enjoy’d  in  luxury  of  state 

Whate’er  gives  man  the  envied  name  of  great ; 

Wealth,  servants,  friends,  were  mine  in  better  days. 

And  hospitality  was  then  my  praise: 

In  every  sorrowing  soul  I  pour’d  delight, 

And  poverty  stood  smiling  in  my  sight. 

But  Jove,  all-governing,  whose  only  will 
Determines  fate,  and  mingles  good  with  ill, 

Sent  me  (to  punish  my  pursuit  of  gain) 

With  roving  pirates  o’er  th’ Egyptian  main;  510 

By  Egypt’s  silver  flood  our  ships  we  moor; 

Our  spies  commission’d  straight  the  coast  explore; 

But,  impotent  of  mind,  with  lawless  will 
The  country  ravage,  and  the  natives  kill. 

The  spreading  clamour  to  their  city  flies. 

And  horse  and  foot  in  mingled  tumult  rise: 


294 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XVII. 


The  reddening  dawn  reveals  the  hostile  fields, 

Horrid  with  bristly  spears,  and  gleaming  shields: 

Jove  thunder’d  on  their  side:  our  guilty  head 
We  turn’d  to  flight;  the  gathering  vengeance  spread  520^ 
On  all  parts  round,  and  heaps  on  heaps  lay  dead.  ; 

Some  few  the  foes  in  servitude  detain;  ‘ 

Death  ill  exchanged  for  bondage  and  for  pain! 

Unhappy  me  a  Cyprian  took  aboard, 

'  And  gave  Demetor,  Cyprus’  haughty  lord : 

Hither,  to  ’scape  his  chains,  my  course  I  steer. 

Still  cursed  by  fortune,  and  insulted  here  1” 

To  whom  Antinous  thus  his  rage  express’d : 

“What  god  has  plagued  us  with  this  gormand  guest? 
Unless  at  distance,  wretch  1  thou  keep  behind,  530 

Another  isle,  than  Cyprus  more  unkind, 

Another  Egypt,  shalt  thou  quickly  find. 

From  all  thou  begg’st — a  bold,  audacious  slave; 

Nor  all  can  give  so  much  as  thou  canst  crave. 

Nor  wonder  I,  at  such  profusion  shown; 

Shameless  they  give,  who  give  what’s  not  their  own. 

The  chief,  retiring:  “Souls  like  that  in  thee. 

Ill  suit  such  forms  of  grace  and  dignity. 

Nor  will  that  hand  to  utmost  need  afford 

The  smallest  portion  of  a  wasteful  board,  540 

Whose  luxury  whole  patrimonies  sweeps. 

Yet  starving  Want,  amidst  the  riot,  weeps.” 

The  haughty  suitor  with  resentment  burns. 

And,  sourly  smiling,  this  reply  returns: 

“Take  that,  ere  yet  thou  quit  this  princely  throng. 

And  dumb  for  ever  be  thy  slanderous  tongue  1” 

He  said,  and  high  the  whirling  tripod  flung. 

His  shoulder-blade  received  th’  ungentle  shock; 

He  stood,  and  moved  not,  like  a  marble  rock ; 

But  shook  his  thoughtful  head,  nor  more  complain’d;  550 
Sedate  of  soul,  his  character  sustain’d. 

And  inly  form’d  revenge:  then  back  withdrew; 

Before  his  feet  the  well-fill’d  scrip  he  threw. 

And  thus  with  semblance  mild  address’d  the  crew: 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XVIL. 


295 


“May  what  I  speak  your  princely  minds  approve, 

Ye  peers  and  rivals  in  this  noble  love! 

Not  for  the  hurt  I  grieve,  but  for  the  cause. 

If,  when  the  sword  our  country’s  quarrel  draws. 

Or  if,  defending  what  is  justly  dear. 

From  Mars  impartial  some  broad  wound  we  bear;  560 
I  The  generous  motive  dignifies  the  scar. 

But  for  mere  want,  how  hard  to  suffer  wrong? 

Want  brings  enough  of  other  ills  along! 

Yet,  if  injustice  never  be  secure. 

If  fiends  revenge,  and  gods  assert  the  poor, 

Death  shall  lay  low,  the  proud  aggressor’s  head. 

And  make  the  dust  Antinous’  bridal  bed.” 

I  “Peace,  wretch!  and  eat  thy  bread  without  offence,” 
The  suitor  cried,  “or  force  shall  drag  thee  hence, 

Scourge  through  the  public  street,  and  cast  thee  there,  570 
A  mangled  carcase  for  the  hounds  to  tear.” 

His  furious  deed  the  general  anger  moved. 

All,  even  the  worst,  condemn’d ;  and  some  reproved : 

“Was  ever  chief  for  wars  like  these  renown’d? 

Ill  fits  the  stranger  and  the  poor  to  wound. 

Unbless’d  thy  hand !  if,  in  this  low  disguise. 

Wander,  perhaps,  some  inmate  of  the  skies: 

They  (curious  oft  to  mortal  actions)  deign. 

In  forms  like  these,  to  round  the  earth  and  main. 

Just  and  unjust  recording  in  their  mind,  580 

And  with  sure  eyes  inspecting  all  mankind.” 

Telemachus,  absorb’d  in  thought  severe. 

Nourish’d  deep  anguish,  though  he  shed  no  tear; 

But  the  dark  brow  of  silent  sorrow  shook ; 

While  thus  his  mother  to  her  virgins  spoke : 

I  “On  him  and  his  may  the  bright  god  of  day 
That  base,  inhospitable  blow  repay !” 

The  nurse  replies:  “If  Jove  receives  my  prayer, 

Not  one  survives  to  breathe  to-morrow’s  air.” 

“All,  all  are  foes,  and  mischief  is  their  end:  590 

Antinous  most  to  gloomy  death  a  friend,” 

Replies  the  queen:  “the  stranger  begg’d  their  grace, 

And  melting  pity  soften’d  every  face; 


296 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XVII. 


From  every  other  hand  redress  he  found, 

But  fell  Antinoiis  answer’d  with  a  wound.” 

Amidst  her  maids  thus  spoke  the  prudent  queen, 

Then  bade  Eumasus  call  the  pilgrim  in. 

“Much  of  th’  experienced  man  I  long  to  hear, 

If,  or  his  certain  eye,  or  listening  ear. 

Have  learn’d  the  fortunes  of  my  wandering  lord?”  GOO 
Thus  she;  and  good  Eum80us  took  the  word: 

“A  private  audience  if  thy  grace  impart. 

The  stranger’s  words  may  ease  the  royal  heart. 

His  sacred  eloquence  in  balm  distils. 

And  the  soothed  heart  with  secret  pleasure  fills. 

Three  days  have  spent  their  beams,  three  nights  have  run 
Their  silent  journey,  since  his  tale  begun, 

Unfinish’d  yet ;  and  yet  I  thirst  to  hear ! 

As  when  some  heaven-taught  poet  charms  the  ear, 
(Suspending  sorrow  with  celestial  strain,  610 

Breathed  from  the  gods,  to  soften  human  pain,) 

Time  steals  away  with  unregarded  wing, 

And  the  soul  hears  him,  though  he  cease  to  sing. 

Ulysses  late  he  saw,  on  Cretan  ground, 

(His  father’s  guest,)  for  Minos’  birth  renown’d. 

He  now  but  waits  the  wind  to  waft  him  o’er. 

With  boundless  treasure,  from  Thesprotia’s  shore.” 

To  this  the  queen:  “The  wanderer  let  me  hear. 

While  yon  luxurious  race  indulge  their  cheer, 

Devour  the  grazing  ox,  and  browsing  goat,  620 

And  turn  my  generous  vintage  down  their  throat. 

For  where’s  an  arm  like  thine,  Ulysses!  strong. 

To  curb  wild  riot,  and  to  punish  wrong?” 

She  spoke.  Telemachus  then  sneezed  aloud ; 
Constrain’d,  his  nostrils  echo’d  through  the  crowd. 

The  smiling  queen  the  happy  omen  bless’d: 

“So  may  these  impious  fall,  by  Fate  oppress’d!” 

Then  to  Eumseus:  “Bring  the  stranger,  fly!  ; 

And  if  my  questions  meet  a  true  reply, 

Graced  with  a  decent  robe  he  shall  retire,  630 

A  gift  in  season  which  his  wants  require.” 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XVII. 


297 


Thus  spoke  Penelop^.  Eumseus  flies 
In  duteous  haste,  and  to  Ulvsses  cries : 

*‘The  queen  invites  thee,  venerable  guest! 

A  secret  instinct  moves  her  troubled  breast, 

Of  her  long  absent  lord  from  thee  to  gain 
Some  light,  and  soothe  her  soul’s  eternal  pain. 

If  true,  if  faithful  thou,  her  grateful  mind 
Of  decent  robes  a  present  has  design’d : 

So  finding  favour  in  the  royal  eye. 

Thy  other  wants  her  subjects  shall  supply.” 

“Fair  truth  alone,”  the  patient  man  replied, 

“My  words  shall  dictate,  and  my  lips  shall  guide. 
To  him,  to  me,  one  common  lot  was  given. 

In  equal  woes,  alas!  involved  by  Heaven. 

Much  of  his  fates  I  know;  but  check’d  by  fear 
I  stand;  the  hand  of  violence  is  here: 

Here  boundless  wrongs  the  starry  skies  invade. 

And  injured  suppliants  seek  in  vain  for  aid. 

Let  for  a  space  the  pensive  queen  attend. 

Nor  claim  my  story  till  the  sun  descend; 

Then  in  such  robes  as  suppliants  may  require. 
Composed  and  cheerful  by  the  genial  fire. 

When  loud  uproar  and  lawless  riot  cease. 

Shall  her  pleased  ear  receive  my  words  in  peace.” 

Swift  to  the  queen  returns  the  gentle  swain: 

“And  say,”  she  cries,  “does  fear,  or  shame,  detain 
The  cautious  stranger?  With  the  begging  kind 
Shame  suits  but  ill.” — Eumseus  thus  rejoin’d: 

“He  only  asks  a  more  propitious  hour. 

And  shuns  (who  would  not?)  wicked  men  in  power; 
At  evening  mild — meet  season  to  confer — 

By  turns  to  question,  and  by  turns  to  hear.” 

“Whoe’er  this  guest,”  the  prudent  queen  replies, 
“His  every  .step  and  every  thought  is  wise: 

For  men  like  these  on  earth  he  shall  not  find 
In  all  the  miscreant  race  of  human  kind.” 

Thus  she.  Eumseus  all  her  words  attends. 

And,  parting,  to  the  suitor  powers  descends ; 

13* 


610 


650 


660 


298 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XVII. 


There  seeks  Telemachus,  and  thus  apart  o 

In  whispers  breathes  the  fondness  ot  his  heart: 

“The  time,  my  lord,  invites  me  to  repair 
Hence  to  the  lodge;  my  charge  demands  my  care. 
These  sons  of  murder  thirst  thy  life  to  take; 

Oh,  guard  it,  guard  it,  for  thy  servant  s  sake! 

“  Thanks  to  my  friend,”  he  cries ;  “  but  now  the  hour 
Of  night  draws  on,  go  seek  the  rural  bower; 

But  first  refresh:  and  at  the  dawn  of  day 
Hither  a  victim  to  the  gods  convey. 

Our  life  to  Heaven’s  immortal  powers  we  trust,  C 

Safe  in  their  care,  for  Heaven  protects  the  just. 

Observant  of  his  voice,  Eumaeus  sate. 

And  fed  recumbent  on  a  chair  of  state. 

Then  instant  rose,  and,  as  he  moved  along, 

’Twas  riot  all  amid  the  suitor-throng. 

They  feast,  they  dance,  and  raise  the  mirthful  song. 
Till  now,  declining  toward  the  close  of  day. 

The  sun  obliquely  shot  his  dewy  ray. 


BOOK  XVIII. 

The  Fight  between  Ulysses  and  Irus. 


Argument. — The  beg'g-ar  Irus  insults  Ulysses  :  the  suitors  promote  the  quar¬ 
rel,  in  which  Irus  is  worsted,  and  miserably  handled.  Penelope  descends, 
and  receives  the  presents  of  the  suitors.  The  dialogue  of  Ulysses  with 
Eurymachus. 

While  fix’d  in  thought  the  pensive  hero  sate, 

A  mendicant  approach’d  the  royal  gate ; 

A  surly  vagrant,  of  the  giant  kind. 

The  stain  of  manhood,  of  a  coward  mind; 

From  feast  to  feast,  insatiate  to  devour. 

He  flew,  attendant  on  the  genial  hour. 

Him  on  his  mother’s  knees,  when  babe  he  lay. 

She  named  Arnaeus  on  his  natal-day; 

But  Irus  his  associates  call’d  the  boy. 

Practised  the  common  messenger  to  fly;  10 

Irus,  a  name  expressive  of  th’  employ. 

From  his  own  roof,  with  meditated  blows. 

He  strove  to  drive  the  man  of  mighty  woes: 

“Hence,  dotard!  hence,  and  timely  speed  thy  way. 

Lest  dragg’d  in  vengeance  thou  repent  thy  stay ; 

See  how  with  nods  assent  yon  princely  train! 

But,  honouring  age,  in  mercy  I  refrain; 

In  peace  away !  lest,  if  persuasion  fail, 

This  arm  with  blows  more  eloquent  prevail.” 

To  whom,  with  stern  regard:  “Oh,  insolence!  20 

Indecently  to  rail  without  offence ! 

What  bounty  gives,  without  a  rival  share ; 

1  ask,  what  harms  not  thee,  to  breath  this  air ; 

Alike  on  alms  we  both  precarious  live ; 

And  canst  thou  envy  when  the  great  relieve? 

Know,  from  the  bounteous  heavens  all  riches  flow, 

And  what  man  gives,  the  gods  by  man  bestow; 


300 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XVIII. 


Proud  as  thou  art,  henceforth  no  more  be  proud, 

Lest  I  imprint  my  vengeance  in  thy  blood ; 

Old  as  I  am,  should  once  my  fury  burn,  30 

How  would’st  thou  fly,  nor  ev’n  in  thought  return !” 

“Mere  woman-glutton!”  thus  the  churl  replied; 

“A  tongue  so  flippant,  with  a  throat  so  wide! 

Why  cease  I,  gods !  to  dash  those  teeth  away, 

Like  some  vile  boaPs,  that,  greedy  of  his  prey. 

Uproots  the  bearded  corn?  Rise,  try  the  fight! 

Gird  well  thy  loins,  approach,  and  feel  my  might! 

Sure  of  defeat,  before  the  peers  engage; 

Unequal  fight,  when  youth  contends  with  age !” 

Thus  in  a  wordy  war  their  tongues  display 
More  fierce  intents,  preluding  to  the  fray.  40 

Antinous  hears ;  and,  in  a  jovial  vein. 

Thus  with  loud  laughter  to  the  suitor-train : 

“This  happy  day  in  mirth,  my  friends,  employ. 

And,  lo !  the  gods  conspire  to  crown  our  joy. 

See,  ready  for  the  fight,  and  hand  to  hand. 

Yon  surly  mendicants  contentious  stand: 

Why  urge  we  not  to  blows?” — Well  pleased  they  spring 
Swift  from  their  seats,  and  thickening  form  a  ring. 

To  whom  Antinous:  “Lo!  enrich’d  with  blood, 

A  kid’s  well-fatted  entrails,  tasteful  food. 

On  glowing  embers  lie;  on  him  bestow  50 

The  choicest  portion  who  subdues  his  foe; 

Grant  him  unrival’d  in  these  walls  to  stay. 

The  sole  attendant  on  the  genial  day.” 

The  lords  applaud:  Ulysses  then  with  art. 

And  fears  well  feign’d,  disguised  his  dauntless  heart : 

“Worn  as  I  am  with  age,  decay’d  with  wo; 

Say,  is  it  baseness,  to  decline  the  foe? 

Hard  conflict!  when  calamity  and  age  60 

With  vigorous  youth,  unknown  to  cares,  engage ! 

Yet,  fearful  of  disgrace,  to  try  the  day 
Imperious  hunger  bids,  and  I  obey; 

But  swear,  impartial  arbiters  of  right. 

Swear  to  stand  neutral,  while  we  cope  in  fight.” 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XVIII. 


301 


The  peers  assent;  when  straight  his  sacred  head 
Telemachus  upraised,  and  sternly  said: 

“Stranger,  if  prompted  to  chastise  the  wrong 
Of  this  bold  insolent,  confide,  be  strong ! 

Th’  injurious  Greek  that  dares  attempt  a  blow,  70 

That  instant  makes  Telemachus  his  foe; 

And  these  my  friends*  shall  guard  the  sacred  ties 
Of  hospitality,  for  they  are  wise.” 

Then,  girding  his  strong  loins,  the  king  prepares 
To  close  in  combat,  and  his -body  bares: 

Broad  spread  his  shoulders,  and  his  nervous  thighs 
By  just  degrees,  like  well-turn’d  columns  rise; 

Ample  his  chest,  his  arms  are  round  and  long. 

And  each  strong  joint  Minerva  knits  more  strong 
(Attendant  on  her  chief):  the  suitor-crowd  80 

With  wonder  gaze ;  and,  gazing,  speak  aloud : 

“Irus,  alas!  shall  Irus  be  no  more? 

Black  fate  impends,  and  this  th’  avenging  hour! 

Gods!  how  his  nerves  a  matchless  strength  proclaim,  . 
Swell  o’er  his  well-strung  limbs,  and  brace  his  frame!” 

Then,  pale  with  fears,  and  sickening  at  the  sight. 

They  dragg’d  th’  unwilling  Irus  to  the  fight; 

From  his  blank  visage  fled  the  coward  blood. 

And  his  flesh  trembled  as  aghast  he  stood.  ^ 

“Oh,  that  such  baseness  should  disgrace  the  light!  90 
Oh,  hide  it,  death,  in  everlasting  night !” 

Exclaims  Antinoiis.  “Can  a  vigorous  foe 
Meanly  decline  to  combat  age  and  wo? 

But  hear  me,  wretch !  if,  recreant  in  the  fray. 

That  huge  bulk  yield  this  ill-contested  day. 

Instant,  thou  sail’st,  to  Echetus  resign’d; 

A  tyrant,  fiercest  of  the  tyrant  kind. 

Who  casts  thy  mangled  ears  and  nose  a  prey 
To  hungry  dogs,  and  lops  the  man  away.” 

While  with  indignant  scorn  he  sternly  spoke,  100 

In  every  joint  the  trembling  Irus  shook. 


*  Antinous  and  Eurymachus. 


302 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XVIII. 


Now  front  to  front  each  frowning  champion  stands, 

And  poises  high  in  air  his  adverse  hands. 

The  chief  yet  doubts,  or  to  the  shades  below 
To  fell  the  giant  at  one  vengeful  blow. 

Or  save  his  life;  and  soon  his  life  to  save 
The  king  resolves,  for  mercy  sways  the  brave. 

That  instant  Irus,  his  huge  arm  extends. 

Full  on  his  shoulder  the  rude  weight  descends; 

The  sage  Ulysses,  fearful  to  disclose  110 

The  hero  latent  in  the  man  of  woes, 

Check’d  half  his  might ;  yet,  rising  to  the  stroke. 

His  jaw-bone  dash’d,  the  crashing  jaw-bone  broke : 

Down  dropp’d  he,  stupid  from  the  stunning  wound ; 

His  feet  extended,  quivering,  beat  the  ground ; 

His  mouth  and  nostrils  spout  a  purple  flood ; 

His  teeth,  all  shatter’d,  rush  inmix’d  with  blood. 

The  peers  transported,  as  outstretch’d  he  lies. 

With  bursts  of  laughter  rend  the  vaulted  skies ; 

Then  dragg’d  along,  all  bleeding  from  the  wound,  120 
His  length  of  carcase  trailing  prints  the  ground; 

Raised  on  his  feet,  again  he  reels,  he  falls. 

Till  propp’d,  reclining  on  the  palace-walls; 

Then  to  his  hand  a  staff*  the  victor  gave. 

And  thus  with  just  reproach  address’d  the  slave: 

“There,  terrible,  affright  the  dogs,  and  reign 
A  dreaded  tyrant  o’er  the  bestial  train ! 

But  mercy  to  the  poor  and  stranger  show. 

Lest  Heaven  in  vengeance  send  some  mightier  wo.” 

Scornful  he  spoke,  and  o’er  his  shoulder  flung  130 
The  broad  patch’d  scrip;  the  scrip  in  tatters  hung. 

Ill  join’d,  and  knotted  to  a  twisted  thong. 

Then,  turning  short,  disdain’d  a  further  stay ; 

But  to  the  palace  measured  back  the  way. 

There  as  he  rested,  gathering  in  a  ring. 

The  peers  with  smiles  address’d  their  unknown  king: 

“Stranger,  may  Jove,  and  all  th’  aerial  powers. 

With  every  blessing  crown  thy  happy  hours ! 

Our  freedom  to  thy  prowess’d  arm  we  owe 
From  bold  intrusion  of  thy  coward  foe; 


140 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XVIII 


303 


Instant  the  flying  sail  the  slave  shall  wing 
To  Echetus,  the  monster  of  a  king.” 

While  pleased  he  hears,  Antinoiis  bears  the  food, 

A  kid’s  well-fatted  entrails,  rich  with  blood: 

The  bread  from  canisters  of  shining  mould 
Amphinomus;  and  wines  that  laugh  in  gold: 

And,  “Oh!”  he  mildly  cries,  “may  Heaven  display 
A  beam  of  glory  o’er  thy  future  day  I 
Alas !  the  brave  too  oft  is  doom’d  to  bear 
The  gripes  of  poverty  and  stings  of  care.”  150 

To  whom,  with  thought  mature,  the  king  replies: 

“  The  tongue  speaks  wisely,  when  the  soul  is  wise ; 

Such  was  thy  father  I  in  imperial  state. 

Great  without  vice,  that  oft  attends  the  great ; 

Nor  from  the  sire  art  thou,  the  son,  declined; 

Then  hear  my  words,  and  grave  them  in  thy  mind ! 

Of  all  that  breathes,  or  grovelling  creeps  on  earth. 

Most  man  is  vain!  calamitous  by  birth: 

To-day,  with  power  elate,  in  strength  he  blooms; 

The  haughty  creature  on  that  power  presumes:  160 

Anon,  from  Heaven  a  sad  reverse  he  feels; 

Untaught  to  bear,  ’gainst  Heaven  the  wretch  rebels ; 

For  man  is  changeful,  as  his  bliss  or  wo : 

Too  high  when  prosperous,  when  distress’d  too  low. 
There  was  a  day  when,  with  the  scornful  great, 

I  s well’d  in  pomp  and  arrogance  of  state: 

Proud  of  the  power  that  to  high  birth,  belongs ; 

And  used  that  power  to  justify  my  wrongs. 

Then  let  not  man  be  proud;  but,  firm  of  mind, 

Bear  the  best  humbly,  and  the  worst  resign’d;  170 

Be  dumb  when  Heaven  afflicts !  unlike  yon  train 
Of  haughty  spoilers,  insolently  vain; 

Who  make  their  queen  and  all  her  wealth  a  prey: 

But  vengeance  and  Ulysses  wing  their  way. 

Oh,  may’st  thou,  favour’d  by  some  guardian  power. 

Far,  far  be  distant  in  that  deathful  hour ! 

For  suie  I  am,  if  stern  Ulysses  breathe, 

These  lawless  riots  end  in  blood  and  death.” 


304 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XVIII. 


Then  to  the  gods  the  rosy  juice  he  pours, 

And  the  drain’d  goblet  to  the  chief  restores.  180 

Stung  to  the  soul,  o’ercast  with  holy  dread. 

He  shook  the  graceful  honours  of  his  head; 

His  boding  mind  the  future  wo  forestalls, 

In  vain!  by  great  Telemachus  he  falls. 

For  Pallas  seals  his  doom:  all  sad  he  turns 
To  join  the  peers;  resumes  his  throne,  and  mourns. 

Meanwhile,  Minerva  with  instinctive  fires 
Thy  soul,  Penelope,  from  Heaven  inspires: 

With  flattering  hopes  the  suitors  to  betray. 

And  seem  to  meet,  yet  fly,  the  bridal-day;  190 

Thy  husband’s  wonder,  and  thy  son’s  to  raise ; 

And  crown  the  mother  and  the  wife  with  praise. 

Then,  while  the  streaming  sorrow  dims  her  eyes, 

Thus  with  a  transient  smile  the  matron  cries: 

“Eurynom^l  to  go  where  riot  reigns 
I  feel  an  impulse,  though  my  soul  disdains ; 

To  my  loved  son  the  snares  of  death  to  show, 

And  in  the  traitor-friend  unmask  the  foe ; 

Who,  smooth  of  tongue,  in  purpose  insincere, 

'  Hides  fraud  in  smiles,  while  death  is  ambush’d  there.”  200 
“Go,  warn  thy  son,  nor  be  the  warning  vain. 

Replied  the  sagest  of  the  royal  train: 

“But,  bathed,  anointed,  and  adorn’d,  descend; 

Powerful  of  charms,  bid  every  grace  attend : 

The  tide  of  flowing  tears  awhile  suppress ; 

Tears  but  indulge  the  sorrow,  not  repress. 

Some  joy  remains:  to  thee  a  son  is  given. 

Such  as,  in  fondness,  parents  ask  of  Heaven.” 

“Ah  me!  forbear,”  returns  the  queen,  “forbear. 

Oh!  talk  not,  talk  not  of  vain  beauty’s  care:  210 

No  more  I  bathe,  since  he  no  longer  sees 
Those  charms,  for  whom  alone  I  wish  to  please : 

The  day  that  bore  Ulysses  from  this  coast. 

Blasted  the  little  bloom  these  cheeks  could  boast. 

But  instant  bid  Autono5  descend. 

Instant  Hippodam^  our  steps  attend ; 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XVIII. 


305 


Ill  suits  it  female  virtue  to  be  seen 
Alone,  indecent,  in  the  "walks  of  men.” 

Then  while  Eurynom^  the  mandate  bears. 

From  heaven  Minerva  shoots  with  guardian  cares:  220 
O’er  all  her  senses  as  the  couch  she 'press’d 
She  pours  a  pleasing,  deep,  and  death-like  rest; 

With  every  beauty  every  feature  arms. 

Bids  her  cheeks  glow,  and  lights  up  all  her  charms. 

In  her  love-darting  eyes  awakes  the  fires 
(Immortal  gifts !)  to  kindle  soft  desires : 

From  limb  to  limb  an  air  majestic  sheds. 

And  the  pure  ivory  o’er  her  bosom  spreads. 

Such  Venus  shines,  when  with  a  measured  bound 

She  smoothly  gliding  swims  th’  harmonious  round,  230 

When  with  the  Graces  in  the  dance  she  moves, 

And  fires  the  gazing  gods  with  ardent  loves. 

Then  to  the  skies  her  flight  Minerva  bends. 

And  to  the  queen  the  damsel-train  descends : 

Waked  at  their  steps,  her  flowing  eyes  unclose; 

The  tear  she  wipes,  and  thus  renews  her  woes: 

“Howe’er,  ’tis  well,  that  sleep  awhile  can  free 
With  soft  forgetfulness,  a  wretch  like  me ! 

Oh !  were  it  given  to  yield  this  transient  breath. 

Send,  oh  Diana!  send  the  sleep  of  death!  240 

Why  must  I  waste  a  tedious  life  in  tears. 

Nor  bury  in  the  silent  grave  my  cares? 

Oh,  my  Ulysses !  ever-honour’d  name ! 

For  thee  I  mourn  till  death  dissolves  my  frame.” 

Thus  wailing,  slow  and  sadly  she  descends. 

On  either  hand  a  damsel-train  attends; 

Full  where  the  dome  its  shining  valves  expands. 

Radiant  before  the  gazing  peers,  she  stands ; 

A  veil  translucent,  o’er  her  brow  display’d. 

Her  beauty  seems,  and  only  seems,  to  shade.  250 

Sudden  she  lightens  in  their  dazzled  eyes, 

And  sudden  flames  in  every  bosom  rise; 

They  send  their  eager  souls  with  every  look. 

Till  silence  thus  th’  imperial  matron  broke: 

U 


306 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XVIII. 


“Oh  why,  my  son,  why  now  no  more  appears  ^  ^ 

That  warmth  of  soul  that  urged  thy  younger  years? 

Thy  riper  days  no  growing  worth  impart, 

A  man  in  stature,  still  a  boy  in  heart ! 

Thy  well-knit  frame,  unprofitably  strong, 

Speaks  thee  a  hero,  from  a  hero  sprung :  260 

But  the  just  gods  in  vain  those  gifts  bestow, 

Oh,  wise  alone  in  form,  and  brave  in  show! 

Heavens !  could  a  stranger  feel  oppression’s  hand 
Beneath  thy  roof,  and  could’st  thou  tamely  stand? 

If  thou  the  stranger’s  righteous  cause  decline. 

His  is  the  sufferance,  but  the  shame  is  thine.” 

To  whom,  with  filial  awe,  the  prince  returns : 

“That  generous  soul  with  just  resentment  burns; 

Yet,  taught  by  time,  my  heart  has  learn’d  to  glow 
For  others’  good,  and  melt  at  others’  wo;  270 

But,  impotent  these  riots  to  repel, 

I  bear  their  outrage,  though  my  soul  rebel; 

Helpless  amid  the  snares  of  death  I  tread; 

And  numbers  leagued  in  impious  union  dread. 

But  now  no  crime  is  theirs:  this  wrong  proceeds 
From  Irus,  and  the  guilty  Irus  bleeds. 

Oh,  would  to  Jove!  or  her  whose  arms  display 
The  shield  of  Jove,  or  him  who  rules  the  day. 

That  yon  proud  suitors,  who  licentious  tread 
These  courts,  within  these  courts  like  Irus  bled:  280 

Whose  loose  head  tottering,  as  with  wine  oppress’d,  - 
Obliquely  drops,  and  nodding  knocks  his  breast; 
Powerless  to  move,  his  staggering  feet  deny 
The  coward  wretch  the  privilege  to  fly.” 

Then  to  the  queen  Eurymachus  replies : 

“Oh,  justly  loved,  and  not  more  fair  than  wise! 

Should  Greece  through  all  her  hundred  states  survey 
Thy  finish’d  charms,  all  Greece  would  own  thy  sway: 

In  rival  crowds,  contest  the  glorious  prize. 

Dispeopling  realms  to  gaze  upon  thy  eyes : 

Oh,  woman !  loveliest  of  the  lovely  kind, 

In  body  perfect,  and  complete  in  mind !” 


290 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XVIII. 


307 


“Ah  me,”  returns  the  queen,  “when  from  this  shore 
Ulysses  sail’d,  then  beauty  was  no  more ! 

The  gods  decreed  these  eyes  no  more  should  keep 
Their  wonted  grace,  but  only  serve  to  weep. 

Should  he  return,  whate’er  my  beauties  prove. 

My  virtues  last;  my  brightest  charm  is  love. 

Now,  grief,  thou  all  art  mine!  the  gods  o’ercast 
*  My  soul  with  woes,  that  long,  ah!  long  must  last. 
Too  faithfully  my  heart  retains  the  day 
That  sadly  tore  my  royal  lord  away : 

He  grasp’d  my  hand,  and,  ‘Oh,  my  spouse!  I  leave 
Thy  arms,’  he  cried,  ‘perhaps  to  find  a  grave: 

Fame  speaks  the  Trojans  bold;  they  boast  the  skill 
To  give  the  feather’d  arrow  wings  to  kill, 

To  dart  the  spear,  and  guide  the  rushing  car 
With  dreadful  inroad  through  the  walks  of  war. 

My  sentence  is  gone  forth,  and  ’tis  decieed 
Perhaps  by  righteous  Heaven  that  I  must  bleed ! 

My  father,  mother,  all  I  trust  to  thee; 

To  them,  to  them  transfer  the  love  of  me: 

But,  when  my  son  grows  man,  the  royal  sway 
Resign,  and  happy  be  thy  bridal-day ! 

'  Such  were  his  words;  and  Hymen  now  prepares 
To  light  his  torch,  and  give  me  up  to  cares; 

Th’  afflictive  hand  of  wrathful  Jove  to  bear: 

A  wretch  the  most  complete  that  breathes  the  aii ! 
Fall’n  even  below  the  rights  to  woman  due! 

Careless  to  please,  with  insolence  ye  woo ! 

The  generous  lovers,  studious  to  succeed. 

Bid  their  whole  herds  and  ffocks  in  banquets  bleed ; 
By  precious  gifts  the  vow  sincere  display; 

You,  only  you,  make  her  ye  love  your  prey.” 

Well  pleased  Ulysses  hears  his  queen  deceive 
The  suitor-train,  and  raise  «.  thirst  to  give: 

False  hopes  she  kindles,  but  those  hopes  betray, 

And  promise,  yet  elude,  the  bridal-day. 

While  yet  she  speaks,  the  gay  Antinous  cries, 
“Offspring  of  kings,  and  more  than  woman  wise! 


300 


310 


320 


330 


308 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XVIII. 


’Tis  right:  his  man’s  prerogative  to  give, 

And  custom  bids  thee  without  shame  receive; 

Yet  never,  never  from  thy  dome  we  move. 

Till  Hymen  lights  the  torch  of  spousal  love.” 

The  peers  despatch’d  their  heralds  to  convey 
The  gifts  of  love;  with  speed  they  take  the  way. 

A  robe  Antinoiis  gives,  of  shining  dyes. 

The  varying  hues  in  gay  confusion  rise. 

Rich  from  the  artist’s  hand !  Twelve  clasps  of  gold. 
Close  to  the  lessening  waist,  the  vest  infold ;  340 

Down  from  the  swelling  loins  the  vest  unbound 
Floats  in  bright  waves  redundant  o’er  the  ground. 

A  bracelet,  rich  with  gold,  with  amber  gay. 

That  shot  effulgence  like  the  solar  ray, 

Eurymachus  presents;  and  ear-rings  bright. 

With  triple  stars,  that  cast  a  trembling  light. 

Pisander  bears  a  necklace,  wrought  with  art : 

And  every  peer,  expressive  of  his  heart, 

A  gift  bestows:  this  done,  the  queen  ascends. 

And  slow  behind  her  damsel-train  attends.  350 

Then  to  the  dance  they  form  the  vocal  strain, 

Till  Hesperus  leads  forth  the  starry  train ; 

And  now  he  raises,  as  the  day-light  fades. 

His  golden  circlet  in  the  deepening  shades : 

Three  vases,  heap’d  with  copious  fires,  display 
O’er  all  the  palace  a  fictitious  day; 

From  space  to  space  the  torch  wide  beaming  burns. 

And  sprightly  damsels  trim  the  rays  by  turns. 

To  whom  the  king:  “Ill  suits  your  sex  to  stay 
Alone  with  men !  ye  modest  maids,  away !  300 

Go,  Avith  the  queen  the  spindle  guide ;  or  cull 
(The  partners  of  her  cares)  the  silver  wool; 

Be  it  my  task  the  torches  to  supply, 

Ev’n  till  the  morning-lamp  adorns  the  sky; 

Ev’n  till  the  morning,  with  unwearied  care. 

Sleepless  I  watch;  for  I  have  learn’d  to  bear.” 

Scornful  they  heard:  Melantho,  fair  and  young, 
(Melantho  from  the  loins  of  Dolius  sprung. 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XVIII.  309 

Who  with  the  queen  her  years  an  infant  led, 

With  the  soft  fondness  of  a  daughter  bred,)  370 

Chiefly  derides;  regardless  of  the  cares 
Her  queen  endures,  polluted  joys  she  shares 
Nocturnal  with  Eurymachus:  with  eyes 
That  speak  disdain,  the  wanton  thus  replies: 

“Oh!  whither  wanders  thy  distemper’d  brain. 

Thou  bold  intruder  on  a  princely  train? 

Hence  to  the  vagrant’s  rendezvous  repair; 

Or  shun  in  some  black  forge  the  midnight  air. 

Proceeds  this  boldness  from  a  turn  of  soul. 

Or  flows  licentious  from  the  copious  bowl?  380 

Is  it  that  vanquish’d  Irus  swells  thy  mind? 

A  foe  may  meet  thee  of  a  braver  kind. 

Who,  shortening  with  a  storm  of  blows  thy  stay. 

Shall  send  thee  howling  all  in  blood  away  1” 

To  whom  with  frowns:  “Oh,  impudent  in  wrong! 

Thy  lord  shall  curb  that  insolence  of  tongue ; 

Know,  to  Telemachus  I  tell  th’  offence ; 

The  scourge,  the  scourge  shall  lash  thee  into  sense.” 

With  conscious  shame  they  hear  the  stern  rebuke. 

Nor  longer  durst  sustain  the  sovereign  look. 

Then  to  the  servile  task  the  monarch  turns 
His  royal  hands:  each  torch  refulgent  burns 
With  added  day.  Meanwhile,  in  museful  mood, 
Absorb’d  in  thought,  on  vengeance  fix’d  he  stood. 

And  now  the  martial  maid,  by  deeper  wrongs 
To  rouse  Ulysses,  points  the  suitor’s  tongues: 

Scornful  of  age,  to  taunt  the  virtuous  man. 

Thoughtless  and  gay,  Eurymachus  began: 

“Hear  me,”  he  cries,  “confederates  and  friends! 

Some  god,  no  doubt,  this  stranger  kindly  sends ; 

The  shining  baldness  of  his  head  survey. 

It  aids  our  torch-light,  and  reffects  the  ray.” 

Then  to  the  king  that  level’d  haughty  Troy: 

“Say,  if  large  hire  can  tempt  thee  to  employ 
Those  hands  in  work;  to  tend  the  rural  trade. 

To  dress  the  walk,  and  form  th’  embowering  shade? 


390 


400 


310 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XVIII. 


So  food  and  raiment  constant  will  I  give: 

But  idly  thus  thy  soul  prefers  to  live, 

And  starve  by  strolling,  not  by  work  to  thrive.’^ 

To  whom,  incensed:  “Should  we,  O  prince,  engage 
In  rival  tasks  beneath  the  burning  rage  410 

Of  summer  suns ;  were  both  constrain’d  to  wield 
Foodless  the  scythe  along  the  burden’d  field ; 

Or  should  we  labour  while  the  ploughshare  wounds, 

With  steers  of  equal  strength,  th’  allotted  grounds; 
Beneath  my  labours,  how  thy  wondering  eyes 
Might  see  the  sable  field  at  once  arise ! 

Should  Jove  dire  war  unloose,  with  spear  and  shield. 

And  nodding  helm,  I  tread  th’  ensanguined  field. 

Fierce  in  the  van:  then  would’st  thou,  would’st  thou,  say, 
Misname  me  glutton,  in  that  glorious  day?  421 

No,  thy  ill-judging  thoughts  the  brave  disgrace; 

’Tis  thou  injurious  art,  not  I  am  base : 

Proud  to  seem  brave  among  a  coward  train ! 

But  know  thou  art  not  valorous,  but  vain. 

Gods !  should  the  stern  Ulysses  rise  in  might. 

These  gates  would  seem  too  narrow  for  thy  flight.” 

While  yet  he  speaks,  Eurymachus  replies. 

With  indignation  flashing  from  his  eyes : 

“  Slave,  I  with  justice  might  deserve  the  wrong,  430 
Should  I  not  punish  that  opprobrious  tongue, 

Irreverent  to  the  great,  and  uncontrol’d. 

Art  thou  from  wine,  or  innate  folly,  bold? 

Perhaps,  these  outrages  from  Irus  flow, 

A  worthless  triumph  o’er  a  worthless  foe !” 

He  said:  and  with  full  force  a  footstool  threw: 

Whirl’d  from  his  arm,  with  erring  rage  it  flew ;  ^ 

Ulysses,  cautious  of  the  vengeful  foe. 

Stoops  to  the  ground,  and  disappoints  the  blow. 

Not  so  a  youth  who  deals  the  goblet  round,  ,  440 

Full  on  his  shoulder  it  inflicts  a  wound ; 

Dash’d  from  his  hand  the  sounding  goblet  flies. 

He  shrieks,  he  reels,  he  falls,  and  breathless  lies. 

Then  wild  uproar  and  clamour  mount  the  sky. 

Till  mutual  thus  the  peers  indignant  cry: 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XVIII.  311 

“Oh,  had  this  stranger  sunk  to  realms  beneath, 

To  the  black  realms  of  darkness  and  of  death, 

Ere  yet  he  trod  these  shores !  to  strife  he  draws 
Peer  against  peer;  and  what  the  weighty  cause? 

A  vagabond!  for  him  the  great  destroy,  450 

In  vile,  ignoble  jars,  the  feast  of  joy  ?” 

To  whom  the  stern  Telemachus  uprose: 

“Gods!  what  wild  folly  from  the  goblet  flows! 

Whence  this  unguarded  openness  of  soul. 

But  from  the  license  of  the. copious  bowl? 

Or  Heaven  delusion  sends:  but  hence,  away! 

Force  I  forbear,  and  without  force  obey.” 

Silent,  abash’d,  they  hear  the  stern  rebuke. 

Till  thus  Amphinomus  the  silence  broke: 

“True  are  his  words,  and  he  whom  truth  offends,  460 
Not  with  Telemachus,  but  truth,  contends; 

Let  not  the  Imnd  of  violence  invade 

The  reverend  stranger,  or  the  spotless  maid; 

Retire  we  hence !  but  crown  with  rosy  wine 
The  flowing  goblet  to  the  powers  divine ! 

Guard  he  his  guest  beneath  whose  roof  he  stands ; 

This  justice,  this  the  social  rite  demands.” 

The  peers  assent;  the  goblet  Mulius  crown’d 
With  purple  juice,  and  bore  in  order  round; 

Each  peer  successive  his  libation  pours  470 

To  the  bless’d  gods  who  fill  the  aerial  bowers ; 

Then,  swill’d  with  wine,  with  noise  the  crowds  obey. 

And,  rushing  forth,  tumultuous  reel  away. 


BOOK  XIX. 


The  Discovery  of  Ulysses  to  Euryclea. 

Argument. — Ulysses  and  his  son  remove  the  weapons  out  of  the  armory. 
Ulysses,  in  conversation  with  Penelope,  g-ives  a  fictitious  account  of  his 
adventures ;  then  assures  her  he  had  formerly  entertained  her  husband  in 
Crete;  and  describes  exactly  his  person  and  dress,  affirms  to  have  heard 
of  him  in  Phseacia  and  Thesprotia,  and  that  his  return  is  certain,  and 
within  a  month.  He  then  goes  to  bathe,  and  is  attended  by  Euryclea, 
who  discovers  him  to  be  Ulysses  by  the  scar  upon  his  leg*,  which  he 
formerly  received  in  hunting*  the  wild  boar  on  Parnassus.  The  poet 
inserts  a  dig*ression,  relating  that  accident,  with  all  its  particulars. 


Consulting  secret  with  the  blue-eyed  maid, 

Still  in  the  dome  divine  Ulysses  stay’d ; 

Revenge,  mature  for  act,  inflamed  his  breast; 

And  thus  the  son  the  fervent  sire  address’d : 

“Instant  convey  those  steely  stores  of  war 
To  distant  rooms,  disposed  with  secret  care: 

The  cause  demanded  by  the  suitor-train, 

To  soothe  their  fears,  a  specious  reason  feign: 

Say,  since  Ulysses  left  his  natal  coast, 

Obscene  with  smoke,  their  beamy  lustre  lost,  10 

His  arms  deform  the  roof  they  wont  t’  adorn ; 

From  the  glad  walls  inglorious  lumber  torn. 

Suggest  that  Jove  the  peaceful  thought  inspired. 

Lest,  they  by  sight  of  swords  to  fury  fired. 

Dishonest  wounds,  or  violence  of  soul. 

Defame  the  bridal-feast  and  friendly  bowl.” 

The  prince,  obedient  to  the  sage  command, 

To  Euryclea  thus:  “The  female  band 
In  their  apartments  keep ;  secure  the  doors ; 

These  swarthy  arms  among  the  covert  stores  20 

Are  seemlier  hid ;  my  thoughtless  youth  they  blame, 
Imbrown’d  with  vapour  of  the  smouldering  flame.” 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XIX. 


313 


“In  happy  hour,”  pleased  Euryclea  cries, 

“  Tutor’d  by  early  woes,  grow  early  wise ! 

Inspect  with  sharpen’d  sight,  and  frugal  care. 

Your  patrimonial  wealth,  a  prudent  heir. 

But  who  the  lighted  taper  will  provide 
(The  female  train  retired)  your  toils  to  guide?” 

“Without  infringing  hospitable  right. 

This  guest,”  he  cried,  “shall  bear  the  guiding  light:  30 

I  cheer  no  lazy  vagrants  with  repast ; 

They  share  the  meal  that  earn  it  ere  they  taste.” 

He  said;  from  female  ken  she  strait  secures 
The  purposed  deed,  and  guards  the  bolted  doors: 

Auxiliar  to  his  son,  Ulysses  bears 

The  plumy-crested  helms  and  pointed  spears. 

With  shields  indented  deep  in  glorious  wars. 

Minerva  viewless  on  her  charge  attends. 

And  with  her  golden  lamp  his  toil  befriends. 

Not  such  the  sickly  beams,  which,  insincere,  40 

Gild  the  gross  vapour  of  this  nether  sphere ! 

A  present  deity  the  prince  confess’d. 

And  wrapt  with  ecstasy  the  sire  address’d: 

“What  miracle  thus  dazzles  with  surprise! 

Distinct  in  rows  the  radiant  columns  rise : 

The  walls,  where’er  my  wondering  sight  I  turn. 

And  roofs,  amidst  a  blaze  of  glory  burn! 

Some  visitant  of  pure  ethereal  race. 

With  his  bright  presence  deigns  the  dome  to  grace.”> 

“Be  calm,”  replies  the  sire;  “to  none  impart,  50 

But  oft  revolve  the  vision  in  thy  heart: 

Celestials,  mantled  in  excess  of  light. 

Can  visit,  unapproach’d  by  mortal  sight. 

Seek  thou  repose;  while  here  I  sole  remain 
T’  explore  the  conduct  of  the  female  train: 

The  pensive  queen,  perchance,  desires  to  know 
The  series  of  my  toils,  to  soothe  her  wo.” 

With  tapers  flaming  day  his  train  attends. 

His  bright  alcove  th’  obsequious  youth  ascends: 

Soft  slumberous  shades  his  drooping  eyelids  close, 

Till  on  her  eastern  throne  Aurora  glows. 

14 


60 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XIX.‘ 

While,  forming  plans  of  death,  Ulysses  stay’d,  ' 
In  counsel  secret  with  the  martial  maid; 

Attendant  nymphs  in  beauteous  order  wait 
The  queen,  descending  from  her  bower  of  state. 

Her  cheeks  the  warmer  blush  of  Venus  wear. 
Chasten’d  with  coy  Diana’s  pensive  air. 

An  ivory  seat,  with  silver  ringlets  graced. 

By  famed  Icmalius  wrought,  the  menials  placed : 
With  ivory  silver’d-thick  the  footstool  shone. 

O’er  which  the  panther’s  various  hide  was  thrown. 
The  sovereign  seat  with  graceful  air  she  press  d ; 

To  different  tasks  their  toil  the  nymphs  address’d: 
The  golden  goblets  some,  and  some  restored 
From  stains  of  luxury  the  polish  d  board : 

These  to  remove  th’  expiring  embers  came. 

While  those  with  unctuous  fir  foment  the  flame. 

’Twas  then  Melantho  with  imperious  mien 
Renew’d  th’  attack,  incontinent  of  spleen: 

“ Avaunt  1”  she  cried,  “offensive  to  my  sight! 
Deem  not  in  ambush  here  to  lurk  by  night, 

Into  the  womar  state  asquint  to  pry; 

A  day-devomer,  and  an  evening  spy! 

Vagrant,  begone  1  before  this  blazing  brand 
Shall  urge!”  And  waved  it  hissing  in  her  hand. 

Th’  insulted  hero  rolls  his  wrathful  eyes. 

And,  “Why  so  turbulent  of  soul?”  he  cries; 

“Can  these  lean  shrivel’d  limbs,  unnerved  with  age. 
These  poor  but  honest  rags,  enkindle  rage? 

In  crowds  we  wear  the  badge  of  hungry  fate ; 

And  beg,  degraded  from  superior  state ! 

Constrain’d,  a  rent-charge  on  the  rich  I  live ! 
Reduced  to  crave  the  good  I  once  could  give: 

A  palace,  wealth,  and  slaves,  I  late  possess’d. 

And  all  that  makes  the  great  be  call’d  the  bless’d ; 
My  gate,  an  emblem  of  my  open  soul. 

Embraced  the  poor,  and  dealt  a  bounteous  dole. 
Scorn  not  the  sad  reverse,  injurious  maid ! 

’Tis  Jove’s  high  will,  and  be  his  will  obey’d! 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XIX. 


315 


Nor  think  thyself  exempt:  that  rosy  prime  100 

Must  share  the  general  doom  of  withering  time; 

To  some  new  channel  soon,  the  changeful  tide 
Of  royal  grace  th’  offended  queen  may  guide: 

And  her  loved  lord  unplume  thy  towering  pride. 

Or  were  he  dead,  ’tis  wisdom  to  beware ; 

Sweet  blooms  the  prince  beneath  Apollo’s  care; 

Your  deeds  with  quick  impartial  eye  surveys; 

Potent  to  punish  what  he  cannot  praise.” 

Her  keen  reproach  had  reach’d  the  sovereign’s  ear: 
“Loquacious  insolent!”  she  cries,  “forbear;  110 

To  thee  the  purpose  of  my  soul  I  told: 

Venial  discourse,  unblamed,  with  him  to  hold; 

The  storied  labours  of  my  wandering  lord, 

To  soothe  my  grief,  he  haply  may  record; 

Yet  him,  my  guest,  thy  venom’d  rage  hath  stung; 

Thy  head  shall  pay  the  forfeit  of  thy  tongue  I 
But  thou  on  whom  my  palace  cares  depend, 

Eurynome,  regard  the  stranger-friend: 

A  seat,  soft  spread  with  furry  spoils,  prepare ; 

Due-distant  for  us  both  to  speak  and  hear.”  120 

The  menial  fair  obeys  with  duteous  haste: 

A  seat  adorn’d  with  furry  spoils  she  placed: 

Due-distant  for  discourse  the  hero  sate; 

When  thus  the  sovereign  from  her  chair  of  state : 

“Reveal,  obsequious  to  my  first  demand. 

Thy  name,  thy  lineage,  and  thy  native  land.” 

He  thus:  “Oh,  queen!  whose  far-resounding  fame 
Is  hounded  only  by  the  starry  frame. 

Consummate  pattern  of  imperial  sway. 

Whose  pious  rule  a  warlike  race  obey !  1 30 

In  wavy  gold  thy  summer  vales  are  dress’d ; 

Thy  autumns  bend  with  copious  fruit  oppress’d: 

With  flocks  and  herds  each  grassy  plain  is  stored ; 

And  fish  of  every  fin  thy  seas  afford: 

Their  affluent  joys  the  grateful  realms  confess, 

And  bless  the  Power  that  still  delights  to  bless. 

Gracious  permit  this  prayer,  imperial  dame ! 

Forbear  to  know  my  lineage,  or  my  name; 


316 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XIX. 


Urge  not  this  breast  to  heave,  these  eyes  to  weep; 

In  sweet  oblivion  let  my  sorrows  sleep ! 

My  woes  awaked  will  violate  your  ear; 

And  to  this  gay,  censorious  train  appear 
A  winy  vapour  melting  in  a  tear.” 

“Their  gifts  the  gods  resumed,”  the  queen  rejoin’d, 
“Exterior  grace,  and  energy  of  mind. 

When  the  dear  partner  of  my  nuptial  joy, 

Auxiliar  troops  combined,  to  conquer  Troy. 

My  lord’s  protecting  hand  alone  would  raise 
My  drooping  verdure,  and  extend  my  praise! 

Peers  from  the  distant  Samian  shore  resort ; 

Here  with  Dulichians  join’d,  besiege  the  court: 
Zacynthus,  green  with  ever-shady  groves. 

And  Ithaca,  presumptuous  boast  their  loves: 
Obtruding  on  my  choice  a  second  lord. 

They  press  the  Hymensean  rite  abhorr’d. 

Misrule  thus  mingling  with  domestic  cares, 

I  live  regardless  of  my  state  affairs; 

Receive  no  stranger-guest,  no  poor  relieve; 

But  ever,  for  my  lord,  in  secret  grieve! — 

This  art,  instinct  by  some  celestial  power, 

I  tried,  elusive  of  the  bridal- hour: 

‘Ye  peers,’  I  cry,  ‘who  press  to  gain  a  heart. 

Where  dead  Ulysses  claims  no  future  part ; 

Rebate  your  loves,  each  rival  suit  suspend. 

Till  this  funereal  web  my  labours  end: 

Cease,  till  to  good  Laertes  I  bequeath 
A  pall  of  state,  the  ornament  of  death. 

For  when  to  fate  he  bows,  each  Grecian  dame 
With  just  reproach  were  licensed  to  defame. 

Should  he,  long  honour’d  in  supreme  command. 
Want  the  last  duties  of  a  daughter’s  hand.’ — 

The  fiction  pleased ;  their  loves  I  long  elude ; 

The  night  still  ravel’d  what  the  day  renew’d: 

Three  years  successful  in  my  art  conceal’d. 

My  ineffectual  fraud  the  fourth  reveal’d : 

Befriended  by  my  own  domestic  spies. 

The  woof  unwrought  the  suitor-train  surprise. 


140 

■  ) 


150 


160 


no 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XIX. 


Sin 

From  nuptial  rites  they  now  no  more  recede, 

And  fear  forbids  to  falsify  the  brede.* 

My  anxious  parents  urge  a  speedy  choice,  180 

And  to  their  suffrage  gain  the  filial  voice. 

For  rule  mature,  Telemachus  deplores 

His  dome  dishonour’d,  and  exhausted  stores. — 

But,  stranger!  as  thy  days  seem  full  of  fate. 

Divide  discourse,  in  turn  thy  birth  relate: 

Thy  port  asserts  thee  of  distinguish’d  race; 

No  poor  unfather’d  product  of  disgrace.” 

“Princess!”  he  cries,  “renew’d  by  your  command. 

The  dear  remembrance  of  my  native  land 

Of  secret  grief  unseals  the  fruitful  source:  190 

And  tears  repeat  their  long-forgotten  course ! 

So  pays  the  wretch  whom  fate  constrains  to  roam. 

The  dues  of  nature  to  his  natal  home! 

But  inward  on  my  soul  let  sorrow  prey. 

Your  sovereign  will  my  duty  bids  obey. 

Crete  awes  the  circling  waves,  a  fruitful  soil ! 

And  ninety  cities  crown  the  sea-born  isle : 

Mix’d  with  her  genuine  sons,  adopted  names 
In  various  tongues  avow  their  various  claims : 

Cydonians,  dreadful  with  the  bended  yew,  200 

And  bold  Pelasgi  boast  a  native’s  due : 

The  Dorians,  plumed  amid  the  files  of  war. 

Her  foodful  glebe  with  fierce  Achaians  share ; 

Cnossus,  her  capital  of  high  command. 

Where  sceptred  Minos,  with  impartial  hand. 

Divided  right;  each  ninth  revolving  year 
By  Jove  received  in  council  to  confer. 

His  son  Deucalion  bore  successive  sway; 

His  son,  who  gave  me  first  to  view  the  day  1 

The  royal  bed  an  elder  issue  bless’d,  210 

Idomeneus,  whom  Ilian  fields  attest 

Of  matchless  deeds :  untrain’d  to  martial  toil, 

I  lived  inglorious  in  my  native  isle. 


*A  braid,  in  allusion  to  the  work  she  was  professis*^  to  perform. 


318  the  odyssey,  book  XIX. 

Studious  of  peace,  and  iEthon  is  my  name. 

’Twas  then  to  Crete  the  great  Ulysses  came; 

For  elemental  war,  and  wintry  Jove, 

From  Malea’s  gusty  cape  his  navy  drove 
To  bright  Lucina’s  fane;  the  shelfy  coast 
Where  loud  Amnissus  in  the  deep  is  lost. 

His  vessels  moor'd,  (an  incommodious  port !)  220 

The  hero  speeded  to  the  Cnossian  court: 

Ardent  the  partner  of  his  arms  to  find. 

In  leagues  of  long  commutual  friendship  join’d. 

Vain  hope!  ten  suns  had  warm’d  the  western  strand. 
Since  my  brave  brother  with  his  Cretan  band 
Had  sail’d  for  Troy;  but  to  the  genial  feast 
My  honour’d  roof  received  the  royal  guest: 

Beeves  for  his  train  the  Cnossian  peers  assign, 

A  public  treat,  with  jars  of  generous  wine. 

Twelve  days,  while  Boreas  vex’d  th’  aerial  space,  230 
My  hospitable  dome  he  deign’d  to  grace: 

And  when  the  north  had  ceased  the  stormy  roar, 

He  wing’d  his  voyage  to  the  Phrygian  shore.” 

Thus  the  famed  hero,  perfected  in  wiles. 

With  fair  similitude  of  truth  beguiles 
The  queen’s  attentive  ear:  dissolved  in  wo. 

From  her  bright  eyes  the  tears  unbounded  flow. 

As  snows  collected  on  the  mountain  freeze. 

When  milder  regions  breathe  a  vernal  breeze. 

The  fleecy  pile  obeys  the  whispering  gales,  240 

Ends  in  a  stream,  and  murmurs  through  the  vales: 

So,  melted  with  the  pleasing  tale  he  told, 

Down  her  fair  cheek  the  copioug  torrent  poll’d : 

She  to  her  present  lord  laments  him  lost. 

And  views  that  object  which  she  wants  the  most ! 
Withering  at  heart  to  see  the  weeping  fair. 

His  eyes  look  stern,  and  cast  a  gloomy  stare; 

Of  horn  the  stiff,  relentless  balls  appear. 

Of  globes  of  iron  fix’d  in  either  sphere; 

Firm  wisdom  interdicts  the  softening  tear.  250 

A  speechless  interval  of  grief  ensues. 

Till  thus  the  queen  the  tender  theme  renews: 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XIX. 


319 


“Stranger!  that  e’er  thy  hospitable  roof 
Ulysses  graced,  confirm  by  faithful  proof; 

Delineate  to  my  view  my  warlike  lord, 

His  form,  his  habit,  and  his  train  record.” 

“’Tis  hard,”  he  cries,  “to  bring  to  sudden  sight 
Ideas  that  have  wing’d  their  distant  flight ; 

Rare  on  the  mind  those  images  are  traced. 

Whose  footsteps  twenty  winters  have  defaced:  260 

But  what  I  can,  receive. — In  ample  mode, 

A  robe  of  military  purple  flow’d 

O’er  all  his  frame:  illustrious  on  his  breast 

The  double-clasping  gold  the  king  confess’d. 

In  the  rich  woof  a  hound.  Mosaic  drawn. 

Bore  on  full  stretch,  and  seized  a  dapple  fawn. 

Deep  in  the  neck  his  fangs  indent  their  hold; 

They  pant,  and  struggle  in  the  moving  gold. 

Fine  as  a  filmy  web  beneath  it  shone 
A  vest,  that  dazzled  like  a  cloudless  sun:  270 

The  female  train  who  round  him  throng’d  to  gaze. 

In  silent  wonder  sigh’d  unwilling  praise. 

A  sabre,  when  the  warrior  press’d  to  part, 

I  gave,  enamel’d  with  Vulcanian  art; 

A  mantle  purple-tinged,  and  radiant  vest. 

Dimension’d  equal  to  his  size,  express’d 
Affection  grateful  to  my  honour’d  guest. 

A  favourite  herald  in  his  train  I  knew, 

His  visage  solemn,  sad,  of  sable  hue: 

Short  woolly  curls  o’erfleeced  his  bending  head,  280 
O’er  which  a  promontory-shoulder  spread; 

Eurybates!  in  whose  large  soul  alone 
Ulysses  viewed  an  image  of  his  own.” 

His  speech  the  tempest  of  her  grief  restored;. 

In  all  he  told,  she  recognised  her  lord; 

But  when  the  storm  was  spent  in  plenteous  showers, 

A  pause  inspiriting  her  languish’d  powers: 

“Oh,  thou,”  she  cried,  “whom  first  inclement  fate 
Made  welcome  to  my  hospitable  gate; 

With  all  thy  wants  the  name  of  poor  shall  end:  290 

Henceforth  live  honour’d,  my  domestic  friend  i 


320 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XIX. 


The  vest  much  envied  on  your  native  coast, 

And  regal  robe  with  figured  gold  emboss’d, 

In  happier  hours  my  artful  hand  employ’d. 

When  my  loved  lord  this  blissful  bower  enjoy’d: 
The  fall  of  Troy  erroneous  and  forlorn 
Doom’d  to  survive,  and  never  to  return !” 

Then  he,  with  pity  touch’d:  “Oh,  royal  dame! 
Your  ever-anxious  mind,  and  beauteous  frame. 
From  the  devouring  rage  of  grief  reclaim. 

I  not  the  fondness  of  your  soul  reprove 
For  such  a  lord!  who  crown’d  your  virgin  love 
With  the  dear  blessing  of  a  fair  increase ; 
Himself  adorn’d  with  more  than  mortal  grace: 
Yet  while  I  speak,  the  mighty  wo  suspend; 
Truth  forms  my  tale;  to  pleasing  truth  attend: 
The  royal  object  of  your  dearest  care. 

Breathes  in  no  distant  clime  the  vital  air: 

In  rich  Thesprotia,  and  the  nearer  bound 
Of  Thessaly,  his  name  I  heard  renown’d: 
Without  retinue,  to  that  friendly  shore 
Welcomed  with  gifts  of  price,  a  sumless  store! 
His  sacrilegious  train,  who  dared  to  prey 
On  herds  devoted  to  the  god  of  day. 

Were  doom’d  by  Jove,  and  Phoebus’  just  decree, 
To  perish  in  the  rough  Trinacrian  sea. 

To  better  fate  the  blameless  chief  ordain’d: 

A  floating  fragment  of  the  wreck  regain’d. 

And  rode  the  storm,  till,  by  the  billows  toss’d. 

He  landed  on  the  fair  Phasacian  coast. 

That  race,  who  emulate  the  life  of  gods. 

Receive  him  joyous  to  their  bless’d  abodes: 
Large  gifts  confer,  a  ready  sail  command, 

To  speed  his  voyage  to  the  Grecian  strand. 

But  your  wise  lord  (in  whose  capacious  soul 
High  schemes  of  power  in  just  succession  roll) 
His  Ithaca  refused  from  favouring  Fate, 

Till  copious  wealth  might  guard  his  regal  state. 
Phaedon  the  fact  affirm’d,  whose  sovereign  sway 
Thesprotian  tribes,  a  duteous  race,  obey ; 


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330 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XIX. 


321 


And  bade  the  gods  this  added  truth  attest, 

(While  pure  libations  crown’d  the  genial  feast,) 

That  anchor’d  in  his  port  the  vessels  stand, 

To  waft  the  hero  to  his  natal  land. 

I  for  Dulichium  urge  the  watery  way. 

But  first  the  Ulyssean  wealth  survey: 

So  rich  the  value  of  a  store  so  vast 
Demands  the  pomp  of  centuries  to  waste ! 

The  darling  object  of  your  royal  love 

Was  journied  thence  to  Dodonean  Jove;  340 

By  the  sure  precept  of  the  sylvan  shrine. 

To  form  the  conduct  of  his  great  design: 

Irresolute  of  soul,  his  state  to  shroud 
In  dark  disguise,  or  come  a  king  avow’d? 

Thus  lives  your  lord;  nor  longer  doom’d  to  roam: 

Soon  will  he  grace  this  dear  paternal  dome. 

By  Jove,  the  source  of  good,  supreme  in  power! 

By  the  bless’d  genius  of  this  friendly  bower! 

I  ratify  my  speech:  before  the  sun 

His  annual  longitude  of  heaven  shall  run;  350 

When  the  pale  empress  of  yon  starry  strain 
In  the  next  month  renews  her  faded  wane, 

Ulysses  will  assert  his  rightful  reign.” 

“What  thanks!  what  boon!”  replied  the  queen,  “are  due, 
When  time  shall  prove  the  storied  blessing  true? 

My  lord’s  return  should  fate  no  more  retard, 

Envy  shall  sicken  at  thy  vast  reward. 

But  my  prophetic  tears,  alas !  presage. 

The  wounds  of  Destiny’s  relentless  rage. 

I  long  must  weep,  nor  will  Ulysses  come,  3GC 

With  royal  gifts  to  send  you  honour’d  home ! — 

Your  other  task,  ye  menial  train,  forbear: 

Now  wash  the  stranger,  and  the  bed  prepare: 

With  splendid  palls  the  downy  fleece  adorn: 

Uprising  early  with  the  purple  morn. 

His  sinews,  shrunk  with  age  and  stiff'  with  toil, 

In  the  warm  bath  foment  with  fragrant  oil. 

Then  with  Telemachus  the  social  feast 

Partaking  free,  my  sole  invited  guest; 

14*  V 


322 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XIX. 


Whoe’er  neglects  to  pay  distinction  due,  370 

The  breach  of  hospitable  right  may  rue. 

The  vulgar  of  my  sex  I  most  exceed 
In  real  fame,  when  most  humane  my  deed; 

And  vainly  to  the  praise  of  queen  aspire 
If,  stranger,  I  permit  that  mean  attire 
Beneath  the  feastful  bower.  A  narrow  space 
Confines  the  circle  of  our  destined  race ; 

’Tis  ours  with  good  the  scanty  round  to  grace. 

Those  who  to  cruel  wrong  their  state  abuse. 

Dreaded  in  life,  the  mutter’d  curse  pursues ;  380 

By  death  disrobed  of  all  their  savage  powers, 

Then  licensed  rage  her  hateful  prey  devours.  ^ 

But  he  whose  in-born  worth  his  acts  commend. 

Of  gentle  soul,  to  human  race  a  friend. 

The  wretched  he  relieves  diflTuse  his  fame,  ^ 

And  distant  tongues  extol  the  patron-name.” 

“Princess,”  he  cried,  “in  vain  your  bounties  flow 
On  me,  confirm’d  and  obstinate  in  wo. 

When  my  loved  Crete  received  my  final  view, 

And  from  my  weeping  eyes  her  cliffs  withdrew,  390 
These  tatter’d  weeds,  my  decent  robe  resign’d, 

I  chose,  the  livery  of  a  woful  mind ! 

Nor  will  my  heart-corroding  cares  abate 
With  splendid  palls,  and  canopies  of  state: 

Low-couch’d  on  earth,  the  gift  of  sleep  I  scorn. 

And  catch  the  glances  of  the  waking  morn. 

The  delicacy  of  your  courtly  train 

To  wash  a  wretched  wanderer  would  disdain; 

But  if,  in  track  of  long  experience  tried. 

And  sad  similitude  of  woes  allied,  400 

Some  wretch  reluctant  views  aerial  light, 

To  her  mean  hand  assign  the  friendly  rite.” 

Pleased  with  his  wise  reply,  the  queen  rejoin’d: 

“Such  gentle  manners,  and  so  sage  a  mind. 

In  all  who  graced  this  hospitable  bower 
I  ne’er  discern’d  before  this  social  hour. 

Such  servant  as  your  humble  choice  reqtiires. 

To  light  received  the  lord  of  my  desires. 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XIX.  323 

New  from  the  birth:  and  with  a  mother’s  hand 

His  tender  bloom  to  manly  growth  sustain’d:  410 

Of  matchless  prudence  and  a  duteous  mind: 

Though  now  to  life’s  extremes!  verge  declined, 

Of  strength  superior  to  the  toil  assign’d. — 

Rise,  Euryclea!  with  officious  care. 

For  the  poor  friend  the  cleansing  bath  prepare: 

This  debt  his  correspondent  fortunes  claim. 

Too  like  Ulysses,  and  perhaps  the  same! 

Thus  old  with  woes  my  fancy  paints  him  now  1 
For  age  untimely  marks  the  careful  brow.” 

Instant,  obsequious  to  the  mild  command,  420 

Sad  Euryclea  rose:  with  trembling  hand 
She  veils  the  torrent  of  her  tearful  eyes; 

And  thus  impassion’d  to  herself  replies: 

“Son  of  my  love,  and  monarch  of  my  cares! 

What  pangs  for  thee  this  wretched  bosom  bears ! 

Are  thus  by  Jove  who  constant  beg  his  aid 
With  pious  deed,  and  pure  devotion,  paid? 

He  never  dared  defraud  the  sacred  fane 
Of  perfect  hecatombs  in  order  slain: 

There  oft  implored  his  tutelary  power,  430 

Long  to  protract  the  sad  sepulchral  hour; 

That,  form’d  for  empire  with  paternal  care. 

His  realm  might  recognise  an  equal  heir. 

Oh,  destined  head!  The  pious  vows  are  lost; 

His  god  forgets  him  on  a  foreign  coast! — 

Perhaps,  like  thee,  poor  guest!  in  wanton  pride 
The  rich  insult  him,  and  the  young  deride! 

Conscious  of  worth  reviled,  thy  generous  mind 
The  friendly  rite  of  purity  declined; 

My  will  concurring  with  my  queen’s  command,  440 
Accept  the  bath  from  this  obsequious  hand. 

A  strong  emotion  shakes  my  anguish’d  breast ; 

In  thy  whole  form  Ulysses  seems  express’d: 

Of  all  the  wretched  harbour’d  on  our  coast, 

None  imaged  e’er  like  thee  my  master  lost.” 

Thus  half-discover’d  through  the  dark  disguise. 

With  cool  composure  feign’d,  the  chief  replies: 


324  the  odyssey,  book  XIX. 

“You  join  your  suffrage  to  the  public  vote: 

The  same  you  think,  have  all  beholders  thought.” 

He  said.  Replenish’d  from  the  purest  springs,  450 
The  laver  straight  with  busy  care  she  brings : 

In  the  deep  vase  that  shone  like  burnish’d  gold, 

The  boiling  fluid  temperates  the  cold. 

Meantime,  revolving  in  his  thoughtful  mind 
The  scar,  with  which  his  manly  knee  was  sign’d ; 

His  face  averting  from  the  crackling  blaze. 

His  shoulders  intercept  th’  unfriendly  rays : 

Thus  cautious,  in  th’  obscure  he  hoped  to  fly 
The  curious  search  of  Euryclea’s  eye. 

Cautious  in  vain !  nor  ceased  the  dame  to  find  460 

The  scar  with  which  his  manly  knee  was  sign’d. 

This  on  Parnassus,  combating  the  boar, 

With  glancing  rage  the  tusky  savage  tore. 

Attended  by  his  brave  maternal  race. 

His  grandsire  sent  him  to  the  sylvan  chase, 

Autolycus  the  bold :  (a  mighty  name 

For  spotless  faith  and  deeds  of  martial  fame : 

Hermes,  his  patron-god,  those  gifts  bestow’d,  ' 

Whose  shrine  with  weanling  lambs  he  wont  to  load.) 

His  course  to  Ithaca  this  hero  sped,  470 

When  the  first  product  of  Laertes’  bed 

Was  new  disclosed  to  birth:  the  banquet  ends. 

When  Euryclea  from  the  queen  descends. 

And  to  his  fond  embrace  the  babe  commends. 

“Receive,”  she  cries,  “your  royal  daughter’s  son; 

And  name  the  blessing  that  your  prayers  have  won.” 

Then  thus  the  hoary  chief:  “My  victor  arms 
Have  awed  the  realms  around  with  dire  alarms : 

A  sure  memorial  of  my  dreaded  fame 

The  boy  shall  bear;  Ulysses  be  his  name!  480 

And  when  with  filial  love  the  youth  shall  come 

To  view  his  mother’s  soil,  my  Delphic  dome 

With  gifts  of  price  shall  send  him  joyous  home.” 

Lured  with  the  promised  boon,  when  youthful  prime  * 
Ended  in  man,  his  mother’s  natal  clime 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XIX. 


325 


Ulysses  sought;  with  fond  affection  dear 
Amphitea’s  arms  received  the  royal  heir : 

Her  ancient  lord*  an  equal  joy  possess’d ; 

Instant  he  bade  prepare  the  genial  feast: 

A  steer  to  form  the  sumptuous  banquet  bled,  490 

Whose  stately  growth  five  flowery  summers  fed: 

His  sons  divide,  and  roast  with  artful  care 
The  limbs;  then  all  the  tasteful  viands  share. 

Nor  ceased  discourse,  (the  banquet  of  the  soul,) 

Till  Phoebus,  wheeling  to  the  western  goal. 

Resign’d  the  skies,  and  night  involved  the  pole. 

Their  drooping  eyes  the  slumberous  shade  oppress’d. 
Sated  they  rose,  and  all  retired  to  rest. 

Soon  as  the  morn,  new-robed  in  purple  light. 

Pierced  with  her  golden  shafts  the  rear  of  night,  500 
Ulysses  and  his  brave  maternal  race. 

The  young  Autolyci,  assay  the  chase. 

Parnassus,  thick  perplex’d  with  horrid  shades. 

With  deep-mouthed  hounds  the  hunter-troop  invades: 
What-time  the  sun,  from  ocean’s  peaceful  stream. 

Darts  o’er  the  lawn  his  horizontal  beam. 

The  pack  impatient  snuff  the  tainted  gale ; 

The  thorny  wilds  the  woodmen  fierce  assail ; 

And,  foremost  of  the  train,  his  cornel  spear 

Ulysses  waved,  to  rouse  the  savage  war.  510 

Deep  in  the  rough  recesses  of  the  wood, 

A  lofty  copse,  the  growth  of  ages,  stood ; 

Nor  winter’s  boreal  blast,  nor  thunderous  shower, 

Nor  solar  ray,  could  pierce  the  shady  bower. 

With  wither’d  foliage  strew’ d,  a  heapy  store! 

The  warm  pavilion  of  a  dreadful  boar. 

Roused  by  the  hounds’  and  hunters’  mingling  cries, 

The  savage  from  his  leafy  shelter  flies: 

With  fiery  glare  his  sanguine  eye-balls  shine, 

And  bristles  high  impale  his  horrid  chine.  520 

Young  Ithacus  advanced,  defies  the  foe. 

Poising  his  lifted  lance  in  act  to  throw; 


*  Autolycus. 


326 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XIX. 


The  savage  renders  vain  the  wound  decreed, 

And  springs  impetuous  with  opponent  speed! 

His  tusks  oblique  he  aim’d,  the  knee  to  gore; 

Aslope  they  glanced,  the  sinewy  fibres  tore. 

And  bared  the  bone:  Ulysses,  undismay’d. 

Soon  with  redoubled  force  the  wound  repaid ; 

To  the  right  shoulder-joint  the  spear  applied; 

His  further  flank  with  seeming  purple  dyed;  530 

On  earth  he  rush’d  with  agonizing  pain; 

With  joy,  and  vast  surprise,  th’  applauding  train 
View’d  his  enormous  bulk  extended  on  the  plain. 

With  bandage  firm  Ulysses’  knee  they  bound; 

Then,  chanting  mystic  lays,  the  closing  wound 
Of  sacred  melody  confess’d  the  force ; 

The  tides  of  life  regain’d  their  azure  course. 

Then  back  they  led  the  youth  with  loud  acclaim; 
Autolycus,  enamour’d  with  his  fame. 

Confirm’d  the  cure:  and  from  the  Delphic  dome  540 
With  added  gifts  return’d  him  glorious  home. 

He  safe  at  Ithaca  with  joy  received. 

Relates  the  chase,  and  early  praise  achieved. 

Deep  o’er  his  knee  inseam’d  remain’d  the  scar; 

Which  noted  token  of  the  woodland  war 
When  Euryclea  found,  th’  ablution  ceased: 

Down  dropp’d  the  leg,  from  her  slack  hand  released ; 

The  mingled  fluids  from  the  vase  redound; 

The  vase  reclining  floats  the  floor  around! 

Smiles  dew’d  with  tears  the  pleasing  strife  express’d 
Of  grief  and  joy  alternate  in  her  breast.  550 

Her  fluttering  words  in  melting  murmurs  died ; 

At  length,  abrupt — “My  son! — my  king!”  she  cried. 

His  neck  with  fond  embrace  infolding  fast, 

Full  on  the  queen  her  raptured  eye  she  cast. 

Ardent  to  speak  the  monarch  safe  restored : 

But,  studious  to  conceal  her  royal  lord, 

Minerva  fix’d  her  mind  on  views  remote. 

And  from  the  present  bliss  abstracts  her  thought. 

His  hand  to  Euryclea’s  mouth  applied, 

“Art  thou  foredoom’d  my  pest?”  the  hero  cried; 


560 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XIX.  327 

“Thy  milky  founts  my  infant  lips  have  drain’d; 

And  have  the  Fates  thy  babbling  age  ordain’d 
To  violate  the  life  thy  youth  sustain’d? 

An  exile,  have  I  told,  with  weeping  eyes. 

Full  twenty  annual  suns  in  distant  skies : 

At  length  return’d,  some  god  inspires  thy  breast 
To  know  thy  king,  and  here  I  stand  confess’d. 

This  heaven-discover’d  truth  to  thee  consign’d. 

Reserve,  the  treasure  of  thy  inmost  mind:  570 

Else,  if  the  gods  my  vengeful  arm  sustain. 

And  prostrate  to  my  sword  the  suitor-train. 

With  their  lewd  mates,  thy  undistinguish’d  age 
Shall  bleed,  a  victim  to  vindictive  rage.” 

Then  thus  rejoin’d  the  dame,  devoid  of  fear: 

“What  words,  my  son,  have  pass’d  thy  lips  severe? 

Deep  in  my  soul  the  trust  shall  lodge  secured; 

With  ribs  of  steel,  and  marble  heart,  immured. 

When  Heaven,  auspicious  to  thy  right  avow’d. 

Shall  prostrate  to  thy  sword  the  suitor-crowd ;  580 

The  deeds  I’ll  blazon  of  the  menial  fair; 

The  lewd  to  death  devote,  the  virtuous  spare.” 

“Thy  aid  avails  me  not,”  the  chief  replied; 

“My  own  experience  shall  their  doom  decide; 

A  witness-judge  precludes  a  long  appeal: 

Suffice  it  thee  thy  monarch  to  conceal.” 

He  said:  obsequious,  with  redoubled  pace. 

She  to  the  fount  conveys  th’  exhausted  vase: 

The  bath  renew’d,  she  ends  the  pleasing  toil 

With  plenteous  unction  of  ambrosial  oil.  590 

Adjusting  to  his  limbs  the  tatter’d  vest. 

His  former  seat  received  the  stranger-guest ; 

Whom  thus,  with  pensive  air,  the  queen  address’d: 

“Though  night,  dissolving  grief  in  grateful  ease. 

Your  drooping  eyes  with  soft  oppression  seize. 

Awhile,  reluctant  to  her  pleasing  force, 

Suspend  the  restful  hour  with  sweet  discourse. 

The  day  (ne’er  brighten’d  with  a  beam  of  joy !) 

My  menials  and  domestic  cares  employ: 


328 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XIX. 


And,  unattended  by  sincere  repose,  600 

The  night  assists  by  ever- wakeful  woes:  « 

When  nature’s  hush’d  beneath  her  brooding  shade,  ‘  ^  * 
My  echoing  griefs  the  starry  vault  invade.  '  ‘ 

As  when  the  months  are  clad  in  flowery  green,  '  ‘  ^ 

Sad  Philomel,  in  bowery  shades  unseen,  ‘ 

To  vernal  airs  attunes  her  varied  strains : 

And  Itylus  sounds  warbling  o’er  the  plains: 

Young  Itylus,  his  parents’  darling  joy! 

Whom  chance  misled  the  mother  to  destroy ; 

Now  doom’d  a  wakeful  bird  to  wail  the  beauteous  boy: 
So  in  nocturnal  solitude  forlorn,  610 

A  sad  variety  of  woes  I  mourn  1 
My  mind,  reflective,  in  a  thorny  maze. 

Devious  from  care  to  care,  incessant  strays. 

Now,  wavering  doubt  succeeds  to  long  despair; 

Shall  I  my  virgin  nuptial- vow  revere? 

And,  joining  to  my  son’s  my  menial  train. 

Partake  his  councils,  and  assist  his  reign? 

Or  since,  mature  in  manhood,  he  deplores 

His  dome  dishonour’d,  and  exhausted  stores,  620 

Shall  I,  reluctant !  to  his  will  accord ; 

And  from  the  peers  select  the  noblest  lord; 

So  by  my  choice  avow’d,  at  length  decide 
These  wasteful  love-debates,  a  mourning  bride? 

A  visionary  thought  I’ll  now  relate; 

Illustrate,  if  you  know,  the  shadow’d  fate : 

“  A  team  of  twenty  geese,  (a  snow-white  train  I) 

Fed  near  the  limpid  lake  with  golden  grain. 

Amuse  my  pensive  hours.  The  bird  of  Jove 

Fierce  from  his  mountain-eyrie  downward  drove;  630 

Each  favourite  fowl  he  pounced  with  deathful  sway, 

And  back  triumphant  winged  his  airy  way. 

My  pitying  eyes  effused  a  plenteous  stream. 

To  view  their  death  thus  imaged  in  a  dream: 

With  tender  sympathy  to  soothe  my  soul, 

A  troop  of  matrons,  fancy-form’d,  condole. 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XIX. 


329 


But  while  with  grief  and  rage  my  bosom  burn’d, 

Sudden  the  tyrant  of  the  skies  return’d : 

Perch’d  on  the  battlements  he  thus  began 

(In  form  an  eagle,  but  in  voice  a  man):  640 

‘O  queen!  no  vulgar  vision  of  the  sky 

I  come,  prophetic  of  approaching  joy : 

View  in  this  plumy  form  thy  victor-lord; 

The  geese  (a  glutton  race)  by  thee  deplored. 

Portend  the  suitors  fated  to  my  sword.’ 

This  said,  the  pleasing  feather’d  omen  ceased. 

When,  from  the  downy  bands  of  sleep  released. 

Fast  by  the  limpid  lake  my  swan-like  train 
I  found,  insatiate  of  the  golden  grain.” 

“The  vision  self-explain’d,”  the  chief  replies,  650 

“Sincere  reveals  the  sanction  of  the  skies; 

Ulysses  speaks  his  own  return  decreed; 

And  by  his  sword  the  suitors  sure  to  bleed.” 

“Hard  is  the  task,  and  rare,”  the  queen  rejoin’d, 
“Impending  destinies  in  dreams  to  find; 

Immured  within  the  silent  bower  of  sleep. 

Two  portals  firm  the  various  phantoms  keep: 

Of  ivory  one ;  whence  flit,  to  mock  the  brain. 

Of  winged  lies  a  light  fantastic  train: 

The  gate  opposed  pellucid  valves  adorn,  660 

And  columns  fair  incased  with  polish’d  horn: 

Where  images  of  truth  for  passage  wait. 

With  visions  manifest  of  future  fate. 

Not  to  this  troop,  I  fear,  that  phantom  soar’d. 

Which  spoke  Ulysses  to  his  realm  restored: 

Delusive  semblance  1 — but  my  remnant  life 
Heaven  shall  determine  in  a  gameful  strife: 

With  that  famed  bow  Ulysses  taught  to  bend, 

For  me  the  rival  archers  shall  contend. 

As  on  the  listed  field  he  used  to  place  670 

Six  beams,  opposed  to  six  in  equal  space; 

Elanced  afar  by  his  unerring  art. 

Sure  through  six  circlets  flew  the  whizzing  dart. 


330 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XIX. 


So,  when  the  sun  restores  the  purple  day, 

Their  strength  and  skill  the  suitors  shall  assay: 

To  him  the  spousal  honour  is  decreed. 

Who  through  the  rings  directs  the  feather’d  reed. 

Torn  from  these  walls,  (where  long  the  kinder  powers 
With  pomp  and  joy  have  wing’d  my  youthful  hours !) 

On  this  poor  breast  no  dawn  of  bliss  shall  beam ;  680 

The  pleasure  past  supplies  a  copious  theme 

For  many  a  dreary  thought,  and  many  a  doleful  dream!” 

“Propose  the  sportive  lot,”  the  chief  replies, 

“Nor  dread  to  name  yourself  the  bowyer’s  prize: 

Ulysses  will  surprise  th’  unfinish’d  game 
Avow’d,  and  falsify  the  suitor’s  claim.” 

To  whom,  with  grace  serene,  the  queen  rejoin’d: 

“  In  all  thy  speech  what  pleasing  force  I  find  1 
O’er  my  suspended  wo  thy  words  prevail ; 

I  part  reluctant  from  the  pleasing  tale.  690 

But  Heaven,  that  knows  what  all  terrestrials  need. 

Repose  to  night,  and  toil  to  day  decreed ; 

Grateful  vicissitude !  yet  me  withdrawn. 

Wakeful  to  weep,  and  watch  the  tardy  dawn. 

Establish’d  use  enjoins;  to  rest  and  joy 
Estranged,  since  dear  Ulysses  sail’d  to  Troy  1 
Meantime,  instructed  is  the  menial  tribe 
Your  couch  to  fashion  as  yourself  prescribe.” 

Thus  affable,  her  bower  the  queen  ascends; 

The  sovereign  step  a  beauteous  train  attends:  700 

There  imaged  to  her  soul  Ulysses  rose ; 

Down  her  pale  cheek  new-streaming  sorrow  flows: 

Till  soft  oblivious  shade  Minerva  spread. 

And  o’er  her  eyes  ambrosial  slumber  shed. 


BOOK  XX. 


Minerva  again  appears  to  Ulysses;  Destruction  of  the  Wooers  foretold. 

Argument. — While  Ulysses  lies  in  the  vestibule  of  the  palace,  he  is  witness 
to  the  disorders  of  the  women.  Minerva  comforts  him,  and  casts  him 
asleep.  At  his  waking',  he  desires  a  favourable  sign  from  Jupiter,  which 
is  granted.  The  feast  of  Apollo  is  celebrated  by  the  people,  and  the  suitors 
banquet  in  the  palace.  Telemachus  exerts  his  authority  among  them , 
notwithstanding  which,  Ulysses  is  insulted  by  Ctesippus,  and  the  rest 
continue  in  their  excesses.  Strange  prodigies  are  seen  by  Theoclymenus 
the  augur,  who  explains  them  to  the  destruction  of  the  wooers. 

An  ample  hide  divine  Ulysses  spread, 

And  form’d  of  fleecy  skins  his  humble  bed: 

(The  remnants  of  the  spoil  the  suitor-crowd 
In  festival  devour’d,  and  victims  vow’d.) 

Then  o’er  the  chief,  Eurynom^  the  chaste. 

With  duteous  care,  a  downy  carpet  cast: 

With  dire  revenge  his  thoughtful  bosom  glows, 

And,  ruminating  wrath,  he  scorns  repose. 

As  thus  pavilion’d  in  the  porch  he  lay. 

Scenes  of  lewd  loves  his  wakeful  eyes  survey,  10 

While  to  nocturnal  joys  impure  repair. 

With  wanton  glee,  the  prostituted  fair. 

His  heart  with  rage  this  new  dishonour  stung, 

W^avering  his  thoughts  in  dubious  balance  hung! 

Or  instant  should  he  quench  the  guilty  flame 
With  their  own  blood,  and  intercept  the  shame ; 

Or  to  their  lust  indulge  a  last  embrace. 

And  let  the  peers  consummate  the  disgrace: 

'  Round  his  swoln  heart  the  murmurous  fury  rolls ; 

As  o’er  her  young  the  mother  mastiff  growls,  2C 

And  bays  the  stranger-groom :  so  wrath  compress’d. 
Recoiling,  mutter’d  thunder  in  his  breast. 

“Poor,  suffering  heart!”  he  cried,  “support  the  pain 
Of  wounded  honour,  and  thy  rage  restrain. 


332  THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XX. 

Not  fiercer  woes  thy  fortitude  could  foil, 

When  the  brave  partners  of  thy  ten  years’  toil 
Dire  Polypheme  devour’d:  I  then  was  freed 
By  patient  prudence  from  the  death  decreed.” 

Thus  anchor’d  safe  on  Reason’s  peaceful  coast, 
Tempests  of  wrath  his  soul  no  longer  toss’d; 
Restless  his  body  rolls,  to  rage  resign’d: 

As  one  who  long  with  pale-eyed  famine  pined, 

The  savoury  cates  on  glowing  embers  cast, 
Incessant  turns,  impatient  for  repast: 

Ulysses  so,  from  side  to  side  devolved. 

In  self-debate  the  suitors’  doom  resolved. 

When,  in  the  form  of  mortal  nymph  array’d. 

From  heaven  descends  the  Jove-born  martial  maid; 
And  hovering  o’er  his  head  in  view  confess’d. 

The  goddess  thus  her  favourite  care  address’d: 

“Oh  thou,  of  mortals  most  inured  to  woes! 

Why  roll  those  eyes  unfriended  of  repose? 

Beneath  thy  palace-roof  forget  thy  care: 

Bless  d  in  thy  queen  I  bless’d  in  thy  blooming  heir  I 
Whom,  to  the  gods  when  suppliant  fathers  bow, 
They  name  the  standard  of  their  dearest  vow.” 

Just  is  thy  kind  reproach,”  the  chief  rejoin’d ; 
Deeds  full  of  fate  distract  my  various  mind. 

In  contemplation  wrapt.  This  hostile  crew 
What  single  arm  hath  prowess  to  subdue? 

Or  if,  by  Jove’s  and  thy  auxiliar  aid. 

They’re  doom’d  to  bleed ;  oh,  say,  celestial  maid  1 
Where  shall  Ulysses  shun,  or  how  sustain. 

Nations  embattled  to  revenge  the  slain?” 

Oh,  impotence  of  faith!”  Minerva  cries; 

“If  man  on  frail  unknowing  man  relies. 

Doubt  ye  the  gods?  Lo,  Pallas’  self  descends. 
Inspires  thy  counsels,  and  thy  toils  attends. 

In  me  affianced,  fortify  thy  breast. 

Though  myriads  leagued  thy  rightful  claim  contest: 
My  sure  divinity  shall  bear  the  shield. 

And  edge  thy  sword  to  reap  the  glorious  field. 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XX. 


333 


'  Now,  pay  the  debt  to  craving  nature  due, 

Her  faded  powers  with  balmy  rest  renew.” 

She  ceased:  ambrosial  slumber  seals  his  eyes; 

His  care  dissolves  in  visionary  joys ; 

The  goddess,  pleased,  regains  her  natal  skies. 

Not  so  the  queen;  the  downy  bands  of  sleep 
;  By  grief  relax’d,  she  waked  again  to  weep: 

A  gloomy  pause  ensued  of  dumb  despair;  70 

Then  thus  her  fate  invoked,  with  fervent  prayer: 

I  “Diana!  speed  thy  deathful  ebon  dart, 

I!  And  cure  the  pangs  of  this  convulsive  heart. 

„  «.  Snatch  me,  ye  whirlwinds !  far  from  human  race, 

Toss’d  through  the  void  illimitable  space:  . 

Or,  if  dismounted  from  the  rapid  cloud. 

Me  with  his  whelming  wave  let  Ocean  shroud! 

So,  Pandarus,  thy  hopes,  three  orphan-fair, 
i  Were  doom’d  to  wander  through  the  devious  air; 

Thyself  untimely,  and  thy  consort  died,  80 

But  four  celestials  both  your  cares  supplied. 

Venus  in  tender  delicacy  rears 

With  honey,  milk,  and  wine,  their  infant  years : 

,  Imperial  Juno  to  their  youth  assign’d 
A  form  majestic,  and  sagacious  mind : 

With  shapely  growth  Diana  graced  the  bloom. 

And  Pallas  taught  the  texture  of  the  loom. 

But  while,  to  learn  their  lots  in  nuptial  love. 

Bright  Cythersea  sought  the  bower  of  Jove, 

(The  god  supreme,  to  whose  eternal  eye  90 

The  registers  of  fate  expanded  lie;) 

Wing’d  harpies  snatch’d  th’  unguarded  charge  away. 

And  to  the  furies  bore  a  grateful  prey. 

Be  such  my  lot !  Or  thou,  Diana,  speed 
Thy  shaft,  and  send  me  joyful  to  the  dead ! 

To  seek  my  lord  among  the  warrior-train. 

Ere  second  vows  my  bridal  faith  profane. 

When  woes  the  waking  sense  alone  assail. 

While  night  extends  her  soft  oblivious  veil. 

Of  other  wretches’  care  the  torture  ends : . 

No  truce  the  warfare  of  my  heart  suspends ! 


100 


334 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XX. 


The  night  renews  the  day-distracting  theme, 

And  airy  terrors  sable  every  dream. 

The  last  alone  a  kind  illusion  wrought, 

And  to  my  bed  my  loved  Ulysses  brought. 

In  manly  bloom,  and  each  majestic  grace. 

As  when  for  Troy  he  left  my  fond  embrace: 

Such  raptures  in  my  beating  bosom  rise, 

I  deem  it  sure  a  vision  of  the  skies.” 

Thus  while  Aurora  mounts  her  purple  throne. 

In  audible  laments  she  breathes  her  moan; 

The  sounds  assault  Ulysses’  wakeful  ear: 

Misjudging  of  the  cause,  a  sudden  fear 
Of  his  arrival  known,  the  chief  alarms ; 

He  thinks  the  queen  is  rushing  to  his  arms. 

Upspringing  from  his  couch,  with  active  haste 
The  fleece  and  carpet  in  the  dome  he  placed: 

(The  hide,  without,  imbibed  the  morning  air;) 

And  thus  the  gods  invoked  with  ardent  prayer: 

“Jove,  and  ethereal  thrones !  with  Heaven  to  friend,  120 
If  the  long  series  of  my  woes  shall  end; 

Of  human  race  now  rising  from  repose, 

Let  one  a  blissful  omen  here  disclose: 

And,  to  confirm  my  faith,  propitious  Jove! 

Vouchsafe  the  sanction  of  a  sign  above.” 

While  lowly  thus  the  chief  adoring  bows. 

The  pitying  god  his  guardian  aid  avows. 

Loud  from  a  sapphire  sky  his  thunder  sounds; 

With  springing  hope  the  hero’s  heart  rebounds. 

Soon,  with  consummate  joy  to  crown  his  prayer,  130 
An  omen’d  voice  invades  his  ravish’d  ear. 

Beneath  a  pile,  that  close  the  dome  adjoin’d,  / 

Twelve  female  slaves  the  gift  of  Ceres  grind;  .  ' 

Task’d  for  the  royal  board  to  bolt  the  bran 
From  the  pure  flour  (the  growth  and  strength  of  man):’ 
Discharging  to  the  day  the  labour  due,  / 

Now  early  to  repose  the  rest  withdrew ;  /. 

One  maid,  unequal  to  the  task  assign’d. 

Still  turn’d  the  toilsome  mill  with  anxious  mind ; 

And  thus  in  bitterness  of  soul  divined:  140  : 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XX. 


335 


‘‘Father  of  gods  and  men,  whose  thunders  roll 
O’er  the  cerulean  vault,  and  shake  the  pole : 

Whoe’er  from  heaven  has  gain’d  this  rare  ostent 
(Of  granted  vows  a  certain  signal  sent). 

In  this  bless’d  moment  of  accepted  prayer, 

Piteous,  regard  a  wretch  consumed  with  care! 

Instant,  O  Jove!  confound  the  suitor-train. 

For  whom,  o’ertoil’d,  I  grind  the  golden  grain; 

Far  from  this  dome  the  lewd  devourers  cast, 

And  be  this  festival  decreed  their  last!”  150 

Big  with  their  doom  denounced  in  earth  and  sky, 
Ulysses’  heart  dilates  with  secret  joy. 

Meantime,  the  menial  train  with  unctuous  wood 
Heap’d  high  the  genial  hearth,  Vulcanian  food: 

When,  early  dress’d,  advanced  the  royal  heir: 

With  manly  grasp  he  waved  a  martial  spear, 

A  radiant  sabre  graced  his  purple  zone. 

And  on  his  foot  the  golden  sandal  shone. 

His  steps  impetuous  to  the  portal  press’d, 

And  Euryclea  thus  he  there  address’d:  160 

“Say  thou,  to  whom  my  youth  its  nurture  owes. 

Was  care  for  due  refection  and  repose 
Bestow’d  the  stranger-guest?  Or  waits  he  grieved. 

His  age  not  honour’d,  nor  his  wants  relieved? 
Promiscuous  grace  on  all  the  queen  confers; 

(In  woes  bewilder’d,  oft  the  wisest  errs.) 

The  wordy  vagrant  to  the  dole  aspires. 

And  modest  worth  with  noble  scorn  retires.” 

She  thus:  “Oh,  cease  that  ever-honour’d  name 
To  blemish  now!  it  ill  deserves  your  blame.  170 

A  bowl  of  generous  wine  sufficed  the  guest: 

In  vain  the  queen  the  night-refection  press’d ; 

Nor  would  he  court  repose  in  downy  state, 

Unbless’d,  abandon’d  to  the  rage  of  Fate! 

A  hide  beneath  the  portico  was  spread, 

And  fleecy  skins  composed  a  humble  bed: 

A  downy  carpet,  cast  with  duteous  care. 

Secured  him  from  the  keen  nocturnal  air.” 


336  the  odyssey,  BOOK  XX. 

His  cornel  javelin  poised,  with  regal  port,  ^ 

To  the  sage  Greeks  convened  in  Themis’  court,  f  lSO  | 
Forth-issuing  from  the  dome  the  prince  repair’d ;  s'  ,  . 

Two  dogs  of  chase,  a  lion-hearted  guard. 

Behind  him  sourly  stalk’d.  Without  delay 
The  dame  divides  the  labours  of  the  day ; 

Thus  urging  to  the  toil  the  menial  train: 

“What  marks  of  luxury  the  marble  stain! 

Its  wonted  lustre  let  the  floor  regain ;  j 

The  seats  with  purple  clothe  in  order  due ; 

And  let  th’  abstersive  sponge  the  board  renew:  | 

Let  some  refresh  the  vase’s  sullied  mould;  190  | 

Some  bid  the  goblets  boast  their  native  gold :  | 

Some  to  the  spring,  with  each  a  jar,  repair,  f 

And  copious  waters  pure  for  bathing  bear: 

Despatch  1  for  soon  the  suitors  will  assay. 

The  lunar  feast-rites  to  the  god  of  day.”  ^ 

She  said:  with  duteous  haste. a  bevy  fair 
Of  twenty  virgins  to  the  spring  repair: 

With  varied  toils  the  rest  adorn  the  dome. 

Magnificent,  and  blithe  the  suitors  come.  | 

Some  wield  the  sounding  axe ;  the  dodder’d  oaks  200 
Divide,  obedient  to  the  forceful  strokes. 

Soon  from  the  fount,  with  each  a  brimming  urn, 

(Eumjeus  in  their  train,)  the  maids  return. 

Three  porkers  for  the  feast,  all  brawny-chined. 

He  brought ;  the  choicest  of  the  tusky  kind : 

In  lodgements  first  secure  his  care  he  view’d. 

Then  to  the  king  his  friendly  speech  renew’d : 

“Now  say  sincere,  my  guest!  the  suitor-train. 

Still  treat  they  worth  with  lordly,  dull  disdain? 

Or  speaks  their  deed  a  bounteous  mind  humane?”  210 
“Some  pitying  god,”  Ulysses  sad  replied, 

“With  vollied  vengeance  blast  their  towering  pride! 

No  conscious  blush,  no  sense  of  right,  restrains 
The  tides  of  lust  that  swell  their  boiling  veins: 

From  vice  to  vice  their  appetites  are  toss’d. 

All  cheaply  sated  at  another’s  cost !” 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XX. 


337 


While  thus  the  chief  his  woes  indignant  told, 
Melanthius,  master  of  the  bearded  fold, 

The  goodliest  goats  of  all  the  royal  herd 

Spontaneous  to  the  suitors’  feast  preferr’d:  220 

Two  grooms  assistant  bore  the  victims  bound; 

With  quivering  cries  the  vaulted  roofs  resound: 

And,  to  the  chief  austere,  aloud  began 
The  wretch  unfriendly  to  the  race  of  man: 

“Here,  vagrant,  still!  offensive  to  my  lords! 

Blows  have  more  energy  than  airy  words; 

These  arguments  I’ll  use:  nor  conscious  shame. 

Nor  threats,  thy  bold  intrusion  will  reclaim: 

On  this  high  feast  the  meanest  vulgar  boast 
A  plenteous  board!  Hence!  seek  another  host!”  230 
Rejoinder  to  the  churl  the  king  disdain’d, 

But  shook  his  head,  and  rising  wrath  restrain’d. 

From  Cephallenia,  cross  the  surgy  main 
Philetius  late  arrived,  a  faithful  swain. 

A  steer  ungrateful  to  the  bull’s  embrace. 

And  goats  he  brought,  the  pride  of  all  their  race, 
Imported  in  a  shallop  not  his  own: 

The  dome  reechoed  to  their  mingled  moan. 

Straight  to  the  guardian  of  the  bristly  kind 
He  thus  began,  benevolent  of  mind:  240 

“What  guest  is  he,  of  such  majestic  air? 

His  lineage  and  paternal  clime  declare: 

Dim  through  th’  eclipse  of  fate,  the  rays  divine 
Of  sovereign  state  with  faded  splendour  shine. 

If  monarchs  by  the  gods  are  plunged  in  wo, ' 

To  what  abyss  are  we  foredoom’d  to  go !” 

Then  affable  he  thus  the  chief  address’d. 

While  with  pathetic  warmth  his  hand  he  press’d . 

“Stranger,  may  fate  a  milder  aspect  show. 

And  spin  thy  future  with  a  whiter  clue !  250 

O  Jove!  for  ever  deaf  to  human  cries; 

The  tyrant,  not  the  father  of  the  skies ! 

Unpiteous  of  the  race  thy  will  began ! 

The  fool  of  fate,  thy  manufacture,  man, 

15  W 


338 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XX. 


With  penury,  contempt,  repulse,  and  care, 

The  galling  load  of  life  is  doom’d  to  bear. 
Ulysses,  from  his  state  a  wanderer  still, 

Upbraids  thy  power,  thy  wisdom.,  or  thy  will! 
Oh,  monarch  ever  dear ! — Oh,  man  of  wo  1 
Fresh  flow  my  tears,  and  shall  for  ever  flow! 
Like  thee,  poor  stranger-guest,  denied  his  home ! 
Like  thee,  in  rags  obscene,  decreed  to  roam ! 

Or,  haply,  perish’d  on  some  distant  coast. 

In  Stygian  gloom  he  glides,  a  pensive  ghost! 

Oh,  grateful  for  the  good  his  bounty  gave, 

I’ll  grieve  till  sorrow  sink  me  to  the  grave! 

His  kind  protecting  hand  my  youth  preferr’d, 
The  regent  of  his  Cephallenian  herd: 

With  vast  increase  beneath  my  care  it  spreads ; 


A  stately  breed!  and  blackens  far  the  meads.  270 

Constrain’d,  the  choicest  beeves  I  thence  import 
To  cram  these  cormorants  that  crowd  his  court; 

Who  in  partition  seek  his  realm  to  share ; 

Nor  human  right,  nor  wrath  divine  revere. 

Since  here  resolved  oppressive  these  reside. 

Contending  doubts  my  anxious  heart  divide ; 

Now  to  some  foreign  clime  inclined  to  fly. 

And  with  the  royal  herd  protection  buy : 

Then,  happier  thoughts  return  the  nodding  scale. 

Light  mounts  despair,  alternate  hopes  prevail ;  280 

In  opening  prospects  of  ideal  joy, 

My  king  returns ;  the  proud  usurpers  die.” 

To  whom  the  chief:  “In  thy  capacious  mind 
Since  daring  zeal  with  cool  debate  is  join’d ; 

Attend  a  deed  already  ripe  in  fate : 

Attest,  oh  Jove!  the  truth  I  now  relate! 

This  sacred  truth  attest,  each  genial  power. 

Who  bless  the  board,  and  guard  this  friendly  bower ! 
Before  thou  quit  the  dome  (nor  long  delay) 

Thy  wish  produced  in  act,  with  pleased  survey  290 
Thy  wondering  eyes  shall  view;  his  rightful  reign. 

By  arms  avowed,  Ulysses  shall  regain. 

And  to  the  shades  devote  the  suitor-train.” 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XX.  339 

“Oh,  Jove  supreme!”  the  raptured  swain  replies, 

“With  deeds  consummate  soon  the  promised  joys! 

These  aged  nerves,  with  new-born  vigour  strung. 

In  that  bless’d  cause  should  emulate  the  young.” 

Assents  Eum£eus  to  the  prayer  address’d; 

And  equal  ardours  fire  his  loyal  breast. 

Meantime,  the-  suitor’s  urge  the  prince’s  fate,  300 

And  deathful  arts  employ  the  dire  debate; 

When,  in  his  airy  tour,  the  bird  of  Jove 
Truss’d  with  his  sinewy  pounce  a  trembling  dove: 
Sinister  to  their  hope!  This  omen  eyed 
Amphinomus,  who  thus  presaging  cried: 

“The  gods  from  force  and  fraud  the  prince  defend: 

O  peers !  the  sanguinary  scheme  suspend ; 

Your  future  thought  let  sable  fate  employ; 

And  give  the  present  hour  to  genial  joy.” 

From  council  straight  th’  assenting  peerage  ceased,  310 
And  in  the  dome  prepared  the  genial  feast. 

Disrobed,  their  vests  apart  in  order  lay, 

Then  all  with  speed  succinct  the  victims  slay ; 

With  sheep  and  shaggy  goats  the  porkers  bled. 

And  the  proud  steer  was  on  the  marble  spread. 

With  fire  prepared,  they  deal  the  morsels  round. 

Wine,  rosy-bright,  the  brimming  goblets  crown’d. 

By  sage  Eumseus  borne;  the  purple  tide 
Melanthius  from  an  ample  jar  supplied : 

High  canisters  of  bread  Philetius  placed;  320 

And  eager  all  devour  the  rich  repast. 

Disposed  apart,  Ulysses  shares  the  treat ; 

A  trivet-table,  and  ignobler  seat, 

The  prince  appoints ;  but  to  his  sire  assigns 
The  tasteful  inwards,  and  nectareous  wines. 

“Partake,  my  guest,”  he  cried,  “without  control 
The  social  feast,  and  drain  the  cheering  bowl: 

Dread  not  the  railer’s  laugh,  nor  ruffian’s  rage; 

No  vulgar  roof  protects  thy  honour’d  age ; 

This  dome  a  refuge  to  thy  wrongs  shall  be. 

From  my  great  sire  too  soon  devolved  to  me ! 


330 


340 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XX. 


'  1 

r:' 

Your  violence  and  scorn,  ye  suitors,  cease,  ^ 

Lest  arms  avenge  the  violated  peace.” 

A'wed  by  the  prince,  so  haughty,  brave,  and  young, 

Rage  gna'w’d  the  lip,  amazement  chain’d  the  tongue. 

“Be  patient,  peers!”  at  length  Antinous  cries; 

“The  threats  of  vain,  imperious  youth  despise: 

Would  Jove  permit  the  meditated  blow, 

That  stream  of  eloquence  should*  cease  to  flow.” 

Without  reply  vouchsafed,  Antinous  ceased.  340 

Meanwhile,  the  pomp  of  festival  increased: 

By  heralds  rank’d,  in  marshal’d  order  move 
The  city-tribes,  to  pleased  Apollo’s  grove; 

Beneath  the  verdure  of  which  awful  shade. 

The  lunar  hecatomb  they  grateful  laid;  | 

Partook  the  sacred  feast,  and  ritual  honours  paid.  |! 

But  the  rich  banquet,  in  the  dome  prepared, 

(An  humble  sideboard  set,)  Ulysses  shared.  ^ 

Observant  of  the  prince’s  high  behest. 

His  menial  train  attend  the  stranger-guest ;  350 

Whom  Pallas  with  unpardoning  fury  fired,  ; 

By  lordly  pride  and  keen  reproach  inspired. 

A  Samian  peer,  more  studious  than  the  rest 
Of  vice,  who  teem’d  with  many  a  dead-born  jest, 

And  urged  for  title  to  a  consort-queen. 

Unnumber’d  acres,  arable  and  green, 

(Ctesippus  named;)  this  lord  Ulysses  eyed. 

And  thus  burst  out  th’  imposthumate  with  pride : 

“  The  sentence  I  propose,  ye  peers,  attend : 

Since  due  regard  must  wait  the  prince’s  friend,  360 

Let  each  a  token  of  esteem  bestow: 

This  gift  acquits  the  dear  respect  I  owe; 

With  which  he  nobly  may  discharge  his  seat. 

And  pay  the  menials  for  the  master’s  treat.” 

He  said;  and  of  the  steer  before  him  placed. 

That  sinewy  fragment  at  Ulysses  cast 
Where  to  the  pastern-bone,  by  nerves  combined, 

The  well-horned  foot  indissolubly  join’d ; 

Which  whizzing  high,  the  wall  unseemly  sign’d. 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XX. 


341 


•s 


The  chief  indignant  grins  a  ghastly  smile;  370 

Revenge  and  scorn  within  his  bosom  boil ; 

When  thus  the  prince  with  pious  rage  inflamed: 

“Had  not  th’  inglorious  wound  thy  malice  aim’d 
Fall’n  guiltless  of  the  mark,  my  certain  spear 
Had  made  thee  buy  the  brutal  triumph  dear: 

Nor  should  thy  sire  a  queen  his  daughter  boast; 

The  suitor  now  had  vanish’d  in  a  ghost: 

No  more,  ye  lewd  compeers,  with  lawless  power 
Invade  my  dome,  my  herds  and  flocks  devour; 

For  genuine  worth,  of  age  mature  to  know,  380 

My  grape  shall  redden,  and  my  harvest  grow. 

Or,  if  each  other’s  wrongs  ye  still  support. 

With  rapes  and  riot  to  profane  my  court. 

What  single  arm  with  numbers  can  contend? 

On  me  let  all  your  lifted  swords  descend. 

And  with  my  life  such  vile  dishonours  end.” 

A  long  cessation  of  discourse  ensued. 

By  gentle  Agelaiis  thus  renew’d: 

“  A  just  reproof,  ye  peers !  your  rage  restrain 
From  the  protected  guest  and  menial  train:  390 

And,  prince !  to  stop  the  source  of  future  ill. 

Assent  yourself,  and  gain  the  royal  will. 

While  hope  prevail’d  to  see  your  sire  restored. 

Of  right  the  queen  refused  a  second  lord: 

But  who  so  void  of  faith,  so  blind  to  fate. 

To  think  he  still  survives  to  claim  the  state? 

Now  press  the  sovereign  dame  with  warm  desire 
To  wed,  as  wealth  or  worth  her  choice  inspire: 

The  lord  selected  for  the  nuptial  joys. 

Far  hence  will  lead  the  long-contested  prize:  400 

While  in  paternal  pomp,  with  plenty  bless’d, 

You  reign,  of  this  imperial  dome  possess’d.” 

Sage  and  serene  Telemachus  replies: 

“By  him,  at  whose  behest  the  thunder  flies. 

And  by  the  name  on  earth  I  most  revere, 

By  great  Ulysses  and  his  woes,  I  swear ! 

(Who  never  must  review  his  dear  domain; 

Enroll’d,  perhaps,  in  Pluto’s  dreary  train,) 


342 


TPIE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XX. 


Whene’er  her  choice  the  royal  dame  avows, 

My  bridal-gifts  shall  load  the  future  spouse ; 

But  from  this  dome  my  parent-queen  to  chase, 

From  me,  ye  gods!  avert  such  dire  disgrace. 

But  Pallas  clouds  with  intellectual  gloom 
The  suitors’  souls,  insensate  of  their  doom  V 
A  mirthful  phrensy  seized  the  fated  crowd; 

The  roofs  resound  with  causeless  laughter  loud: 
Floating  in  gore,  portentous  to  survey, 

In  each  discolour’d  vase  the  viands  lay: 

Then  down  each  cheek  the  tears  spontaneous  flow. 
And  sudden  sighs  precede  approaching  wo. 

In  vision  rapt,  the  Hyperesian  seer* 

Uprose,  and  thus  divined  the  vengeance  near: 

“Oh,  race  to  death  devote!  with  Stygian  shade 
Each  destined  peer  impending  fates  invade: 

With  tears  your  wan,  distorted  cheeks  are  drown  d ; 
With  sanguine  drops  the  walls  are  rubied  round: 
Thick  swarms  the  spacious  hall  with  howling  ghosts. 
To  people  Orcus,  and  the  burning  coasts ! 

Nor  gives  the  sun  his  golden  orb  to  roll. 

But  universal  night  usurps  the  pole !” 

Yet  warn’d  in  vain,  with  laughter  loud  elate. 

The  peers  reproach  the  sure  divine  of  Fate: 

And  thus  Eurymachus:  “The  dotard’s  mind 
To  every  sense  is  lost,  to  reason  blind: 

Swift  from  the  dome  conduct  the  slave  away: 

Let  him  in  open  air  behold  the  day. 

“Tax  not,”  the  Heaven-illumined  seer  rejoin’d, 
“Of  rage,  or  folly,  my  prophetic  mind. 

No  clouds  of  error  dim  th’  ethereal  rays. 

Her  equal  power  each  faithful  sense  obeys. 
Unguided  hence  my  trembling  steps  I  bend; 

Far  hence,  before  yon  hovering  deaths  descend ; 
Lest  the  ripe  harvest  of  revenge  begun, 

I  share  the  doom  ye  suitors  cannot  shun.” 


♦ 


410 


420 


430 


440 


*  Theoclyraenus. 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XX.  343 

This  said,  to  sage  Piraeus  sped  the  seer, 

His  honour’d  host,  a  welcome  inmate  there. 

O’er  the  protracted  feast  the  suitors  sit. 

And  aim  to  wound  the  prince  with  pointless  wit: 

Cries  one,  with  scornful  leer  and  mimic  voice, 

“Thy  charity  we  praise,  but  not  thy  choice:  450 

Why  such  profusion  of  indulgence  shown 
To  this  poor,  timorous,  toil-detesting  drone? 

That  other  feeds  on  planetary  schemes. 

And  pays  his  host  with  hideous  noon-day  dreams. 

But,  prince !  for  once  at  least  believe  a  friend. 

To  some  Sicilian  mart  these  courtiers  send. 

Where,  if  they  yield  their  freight  across  the  main. 

Dear  sell  the  slaves !  demand  no  greater  gain.” 

Thus  jovial  they;  but  naught  the  prince  replies: 

Full  on  his  sire  he  roll’d  his  ardent  eyes ;  460 

Impatient  straight  to  flesh  his  virgin-sword: 

From  the  wise  chief  he  waits  the  deathful  word. 

Nigh,  in  her  bright  alcove,  the  pensive  queen 
To  see  the  circlet  sate,  of  all  unseen. 

Sated  at  length  they  rise,  and  bid  prepare 
An  eve-repast,  with  equal  cost  and  care ; 

But  vengeful  Pallas,  with  preventing  speed, 

A  feast  proportion’d  to  their  crimes  decreed: 

A  feast  of  death !  the  feasters  doom’d  to  bleed ! 


BOOK  XXI. 

The  Bending  of  Ulysse^  Bow;  Omen  from  Jupiter. 


•  > 


Argument. — Penelop^,  to  put  an  end  to  the  solicitation  of  the  suitors,  pro¬ 
poses  to  marry  the  person  who  shall  first  bend  the  bow  of  Ulysses,  and 
shoot  through  the  ringlets.  After  their  attempts  have  proved  inefiectual, 
Ulysses,  taking  Eumseus  and  Philetius  apart,  discovers  himself  to  them ; 
then  returning,  desires  leave  to  try  his  strength  at  the  bow,  which,  though 
refused  with  indignation  by  the  suitors,  Penelope  and  Telemachus  cause 
it  to  be  delivered  to  his  hands.  He  bends  it  immediately,  and  shoots 
through  all  the  rings.  Jupiter  at  the  same  instant  thunders  from  heaven  ; 
Ulysses  accepts  the  omen,  and  gives  a  sign  to  Telemachus,  who  stands 
ready  armed  at  his  side. 

And  Pallas  now  to  raise  the  rivals’  fires, 

With  her  own  art  Penelop4  inspires : 

Who  now  can  bend  Ulysses’  bow,  and  wing 
The  well-aim’d  arrow  through  the  distant  ring, 

Shall  end  the  strife,  and  win  th’  imperial  dame: 

But  discord  and  black  death  await  the  game. 

The  prudent  queen  the  lofty  stair  ascends. 

At  distance  due  a  virgin-train  attends ; 

A  brazen  key  she  held,  the  handle  turn’d, 

With  steel  and  polish’d  elephant  adorn’d:  10 

Swift  to  the  inmost  room  she  bent  her  way, 

Where,  safe  reposed,  the  royal  treasures  lay; 

There  shone  high  heap’d  the  labour’d  brass  and  ore. 

And  there  the  bow  which  great  Ulysses  bore ; 

And  there  the  quiver,  where  now  guiltless  slept 
Those  winged  deaths  that  many  a  matron  wept. 

This  gift,  long  since  when  Sparta’s  shores  he  trod. 

On  young  Ulysses  Iphitus  bestow’d: 

Beneath  Orsilochus’s  roof  they  met ; 

One  loss  was  private,  one  a  public  debt ;  20 

Meseena’s  state  from  Ithaca  detains 

Three  hundred  sheep,  and  all  the  shepherd  swains; 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XXI. 

And  to  the  youthful  prince  to  urge  the  laws, 

The  king  and  elders  trust  their  common  cause. 

But  Iphitus,  employ’d  on  other  cares, 

Search’d  the  wide  country  for  his  wandering  mares. 
And  mules,  the  strongest  of  the  labouring  kind; 
Hapless  to  search!  more  hapless  still  to  find! 

For  journeying  on  to  Hercules,  at  length 
That  lawless  wretch,  that  man  of  brutal  strength. 
Deaf  to  Heaven’s  voice,  the  social  right  transgress  d 
And  for  the  beauteous  mares  destroy’d  his  guest: 

He  gave  the  bow;  and  on  Ulysses’  part 
Received  a  pointed  sword,  and  missile  dart: 

Of  luckless  friendship  on  a  foreign  shore 
Their  first,  last  pledges;  for  they  met  no  more. 

The  bow,  bequeath’d  by  this  unhappy  hand, 

Ulysses  bore  not  from  his  native  land; 

Nor  in  the  front  of  battle  taught  to  bend. 

But  kept  in  dear  memorial  of  his  friend. 

Now  gently  winding  up  the  fair  ascent. 

By  many  an  easy  step  the  matron  went; 

Then  o’er  the  pavements  glides  with  grace  divine; 
(With  polish’d  oak  the  level  pavements  shine;) 

The  folding  gates  a  dazzling  light  display’d. 

With  pomp  of  various  architrave  o’erlaid. 

The  bolt,  obedient  to  the  silken  string. 

Forsakes  the  staple  as  she  pulls  the  ring; 

The  wards  respondent  to  the  key  turn  round; 

The  bars  fall  back;  the  flying  valves  resound; 

Loud  as  a  bull  makes  hill  and  valley  ling. 

So  roar’d  the  lock  when  it  released  the  spring. 

She  moves  majestic  through  the  wealthy  room. 
Where  treasured  garments  cast  a  rich  perfume; 
There  from  the  column  where  aloft  it  hung. 
Reach’d,  in  its  splendid  case,  the  bow  unstrung ; 
Across  her  knees  she  laid  the  well-known  bow. 
And  pensive  sate,  and  tears  began  to  flow. 

To  full  satiety  of  grief  she  mourns, 

Then  silent  to  the  joyous  hall  returns; 

15* 


346 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XXI. 


To  the  proud  suitors  bears  in  pensive  state 
Th'  unbended  bow,  and  arrows  wing’d  with  fate. 

Behind,  her  train  the  polish’d  coffer  brings, 
Which  held  th’  alternate  brass  and  silver  rings. 
Full  in  the  portal  the  chaste  queen  appears,  . 

And  with  her  veil  conceals  the  coming  tears : 

On  either  side  awaits  a  virgin  fair ; 

While  thus  the  matron,  with  majestic  air: 

“Say  you,  whom  these  forbidden  walls  enclose. 
For  whom  my  victims  bleed,  my  vintage  flows; 

If  these  neglected,  faded  charms  can  move? 

Or  is  it  but  a  vain  pretence,  you  love? 

If  I  the  prize,  if  me  you  seek  to  wife. 

Hear  the  conditions,  and  commence  the  strife. 
Who  first  Ulysses’  wondrous  bow  shall  bend. 

And  through  twelve  ringlets  the  fleet  arrow  send, 
Him  will  I  follow,  and  forsake  my  home. 

For  him  forsake  this  loved,  this  wealthy  dome. 
Long,  long  the  scene  of  all  my  past  delight. 

And  still  to  last,  the  vision  of  my  night !” 

Graceful  she  said,  and  bade  Eumseus  show 
The  rival  peers  the  ringlets  and  the  bow. 

From  his  full  eyes  the  tears  unbidden  spring. 
Touch’d  at  the  dear  memorials  of  his  king. 
Philetius  too  relents,  but  secret  shed 
The  tender  drops.  Antinous  saw,  and  said : 

“Hence  to  your  fields,  ye  rustics!  hence  away, 
Nor  stain  with  grief  the  pleasures  of  the  day: 

Nor  to  the  royal  heart  recall  in  vain 
The  sad  remembrance  of  a  perish’d  man. 

Enough  her  precious  tears  already  flow ! 

Or  share  the  feast  with  due  respect,  or  go 
To  weep  abroad,  and  leave  us  to  the  bow :  • 

No  vulgar  task!  Ill  suits  this  courtly  crew 
That  stubborn  horn  which  brave  Ulysses  drew. 

I  well  remember  (for  I  gazed  him  o’er 
While  yet  a  child)  what  majesty  he  bore ! 

And  still  (all  infant  as  I  was)  retain 

The  port,  the  strength,  the  grandeur  of  the  man.” 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XXL 

He  said ;  but  in  his  soul  fond  joys  arise, 

And  his  proud  hopes  already  win  the  prize. 

To  speed  the  flying  shaft  through  every  ring, 
Wretch!  is  not  thine:  the  arrows  of  the  king 
Shall  end  those  hopes,  and  fate  is  on  the  wing  1 
Then  thus  Telemachus:  “Some  god,  I  find. 

With  pleasing  phrensy  has  possess’d  my  mind ; 
When  a  loved  mother  threatens  to  depart. 

Why  with  this  ill-timed  gladness  leaps  my  heart? 
Come  then,  ye  suitors  1  and  dispute  a  prize 
Richer  than  all  th’  Achaian  state  supplies, 

Than  all  proud  Argos,  or  Mycsena  knows, 

Than  all  our  isles  or  continents  enclose: 

A  woman  matchless,  and  almost  divine. 

Fit  for  the  praise  of  every  tongue  but  mine. 

No  more  excuses  then,  no  more  delay ; 

Haste  to  the  trial— Lo  1  I  lead  the  way. 

I  too  may  try,  and  if  this  arm  can  wing 
The  feather’d  arrow  through  the  destined  ring. 

Then  if  no  happier  knight  the  conquest  boast, 

I  shall  not  sorrow  for  a  mother  lost: 

But,  bless’d  in  her,  possess  these  arms  alone. 

Heir  of  my  father’s  strength,  as  well  as  throne.” 

He  spoke:  then,  rising,  his  broad  sword  unbound. 
And  cast  his  purple  garment  on  the  ground. 

A  trench  he  open’d ;  in  a  line  he  placed 
The  level  axes,  and  the  points  made  fast; 

(His  perfect  skill  the  wondering  gazers  eyed. 

The  game  as  yet  unseen,  as  yet  untried.) 

Then,  with  a  manly  pace,  he  took  his  stand; 

And  grasp’d  the  bow,  and  twang’d  it  in  his  hand. 
Three  times,  with  beating  heart  he  made  essay ; 
Three  times,  unequal  to  the  task,  gave  way; 

A  modest  boldness  on  his  cheek  appear’d: 

And  thrice  he  hoped,  and  thrice  again  he  fear’d. 
The  fourth  had  drawn  it.  The  great  sire  with  joy 
Beheld,  but  with  a  sign  forbade  the  boy. 

His  ardour  straight  th’  obedient  prince  suppress  d. 
And,  artful,  thus  the  suitor-train  address’d: 


347 

100 


no 


120 


130 


348 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XXI. 


“Oh,  lay  the  cause  on  youth  yet  immature! 

(For  Heaven  forbid  such  weakness  should  endure!)  140 
How  shall  this  arm,  unequal  to  the  bow. 

Retort  an  insult,  or  repel  a  foe? 

But  you !  whom  Heaven  with  better  nerves  has  bless’d. 
Accept  the  trial,  and  the  prize  contest.” 

He  cast  the  bow  before  him,  and  apart 
Against  the  polish’d  quiver  propp’d  the  dart. 

Resuming  then  his  seat,  Epitheus’  son. 

The  bold  Antinous,  to  the  rest  begun: 

“From  where  the  goblet  first  begins  to  flow. 

From  right  to  left  in  order  take  the  bow, 

And  prove  your  several  strengths.” — The  princes  heard. 
And  first  Liodes,  blameless  priest,  appear’d:  ■  151 

The  eldest  born  of  CEnops’  noble  race. 

Who  next  the  goblet  held  his  holy  place : 

He,  only  he,  of  all  the  suitor-throng. 

Their  deeds  detested,  and  abjured  the  wrong. 

With  tender  hands  the  stubborn  horn  he  strains. 

The  stubborn  horn  resisted  all  his  pains ! 

Already  in  despair  he  gives  it  o’er: 

“Take  it  who  will,”  he  cries,  “I  strive  no  more.  160 
What  numerous  deaths  attend  this  fatal  bow ! 

What  souls  and  spirits  shall  it  send  below ! 

Better,  indeed,  to  die,  and  fairly  give 
Nature  her  debt,  than  disappointed  live. 

With  each  new  sun  to  some  new  hope  a  prey. 

Yet  still  to-morrow  falser  than  to-day. 

How  long  in  vain  Penelop4  we  sought ! 

This  bow  shall  ease  us  of  that  idle  thought. 

And  send  us  with  some  humbler  wife  to  live. 

Whom  gold  shall  gain,  or  destiny  shall  give.”  170 

Thus  speaking,  on  the  floor  the  bow  he  placed 
(With  rich  inlay  the  various  floor  was  graced); 

At  distance  far  the  feather’d  shaft  he  throws. 

And  to  the  seat  returns  from  whence  he  rose. 

To  him  Antinous  thus  with  fury  said: 

“What  words  ill-omen’d  from  thy  lips  have  fled? 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XXI. 


349 


Thy  coward  function  ever  is  in  fear ; 

Those  arms  are  dreadful  which  thou  canst  not  bear. 

Why  should  this  bow  be  fatal  to  the  brave  ? 

Because  the  priest  is  born  a  peaceful  slave.  180 

Mark  then  what  others  can.” — He  ended  there, 

And  bade  Melanthius  a  vast  pile  prepare ; 

He  gives  it  instant  flame,  then  fast  beside 
Spreads  o’er  an  ample  board  a  bullock’s  hide. 

With  melted  lard  they  soak  the  weapon  o’er. 

Chafe  every  knot,  and  supple  every  pore. 

Vain  all  their  art,  and  all  their  strength  as  vain; 

The  bow  inflexible  resists  their  pain. 

The  force  of  great  Eurymachus  alone 
And  bold  Antinous,  yet. untried,  unknown: 

Those  only  now  remain’d;  but  those  confess’d  190 

Of  all  the  train  the  mightiest  and  the  best. 

Then  from  the  hall,  and  from  the  noisy  crew. 

The  masters  of  the  herd  and  flock  withdrew. 

The  king  observes  them,  he  the  hall  forsakes. 

And,  pass’d  the  limits  of  the  court,  o’ertakes. 

Then  thus  with  accent  mild  Ulysses  spoke : 

“Ye  faithful  guardians  of  the  herd  and  flock! 

Shall  I  the  secret  of  my  breast  conceal. 

Or  (as  my  soul  now  dictates)  shall  I  tell?  200 

Say,  should  some  favouring  god  restore  again 
The  lost  Ulysses  to  his  native  reign. 

How  beat  your  hearts?  what  aid  would  you  afford 
To  the  proud  suitors,  or  your  ancient  lord?” 

Philetius  thus:  “Oh,  were  my  word  not  vain! 

Would  mighty  Jove  restore  that  man  again! 

These  aged  sinews,  with  new  vigour  strung, 

In  his  bless’d  cause  should  emulate  the  young.” 

With  equal  vows  Eumseus  too  implored 
Each  power  above,  with  wishes  for  his  lord.  210 

He  saw  their  secret  souls,  and  thus  began: 

“Those  vows  the  gods  accord:  Behold  the  man! 

Your  own  Ulysses!  twice  ten  years  detain’d 
By  woes  and  wanderings  from  this  hapless  land: 


350 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XXI. 


At  length  he  comes:  but  comes  despised,  unknown, 

And  finding  faithful  you,  and  you  alone. 

All  else  have  cast  him  from  their  very  thought, 

Ev’n  in  their  wishes  and  their  prayers  forgot ! 

Hear  then,  my  friends:  If  Jove  this  arm  succeed. 

And  give  yon  impious  revellers  to  bleed. 

My  care  shall  be  to  bless  your  future  Jives 
With  large  possessions  and  with  faithful  wives; 

Fast  by  my  palace  shall  your  domes  ascend, 

And  each  on  young  Telemachus  attend. 

And  each  be  call’d  his  brother  and  my  friend. 

To  give  you  firmer  faith,  now  trust  your  eye ; 

Lo !  the  broad  scar  indented  on  my  thigh. 

When  with  Autolycus’s  sons,  of  yore. 

On  Parnass’  top  I  chased  the  tusky  boar.” 

His  ragged  vest  then  drawn  aside  disclosed 
The  sign  conspicuous,  and  the  scar  exposed; 

Eager  they  view’d ;  with  joy  they  stood  amazed ; 

With  tearful  eyes  o’er  all  their  master  gazed ; 

Around  his  neck  their  longing  arms  they  cast. 

His  head,  his  shoulders,  and  his  knees  embraced: 

Tears  follow  tears;  no  word  was  in  their  power; 

In  solemn  silence  fell  the  kindly  shower. 

The  king  too  weeps,  the  king  too  grasps  their  hands. 

And  moveless  as  a  marble  fountain  stands. 

Thus  had  their  joy  wept  down  the  setting  sun,  240 
But  first  the  wise  man  ceased,  and  thus  begun: 

“Enough:  on  other  cares  your  thought  employ. 

For  danger  waits  on  all  untimely  joy. 

Full  many  foes,  and  fierce,  observe  us  near; 

Some  may  betray,  and  yonder  walls  may  hear. 

Reenter  then,  not  all  at  once,  but  stay 
Some  moments  you,  and  let  me  lead  the  way. 

To  me,  neglected  as  I  am,  I  know 
The  haughty  suitors  will  deny  the  bow; 

But  thou,  Eumseus,  as  ’tis  borne  away,  250 

Thy  master’s  weapon  to  his  hand  convey. 

At  every  portal  let  some  matron  wait. 

And  each  lock  fast  the  well-compacted  gate: 


220 


230 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XXI. 


351 


Close  let  them  keep  whate’er  invades  their  ear ; 

Though  arms,  or  shouts,  or  dying  groans  they  hear. 

To  thy  strict  charge,  Philetius,  we  consign 

The  court’s  main  gate:  to  guard  that  pass  be  thine.” 

This  said,  he  first  return’d:  the  faithful  swains 
At  distance  follow,  as  their  king  ordains. 

Before  the  flame  Eurymachus  now  stands,  260 

And  turns  the  bow,  and  chafes  it  with  his  hands: 

Still  the  tough  bow  unmoved.  The  lofty  man 
Sigh’d  from  his  mighty  soul,  and  thus  began: 

“  I  mourn  the  common  cause ;  for,  oh,  my  friends ! 

On  me,  on  all,  what  grief,  what  shame  attends ! 

Not  the  lost  nuptials  can  affect  me  more, 

(For  Greece  has  beauteous  dames  on  every  shore;) 

But  baffled  thus !  confess’d  so  far  below 
Ulysses’  strength,  as  not  to  bend  his  bow ! 

How  shall  all  ages  our  attempts  deride !  270 

Our  weakness  scorn!” — Antinous  thus  replied: 

“Not  so,  Eurymachus:  that  no  man  draws 
The  wondrous  bow,  attend  another  cause. 

Sacred  to  Phcebus  is  the  solemn  day. 

Which  thoughtless  we  in  games  would  waste  away ; 

Till  the  next  dawn  this  ill-timed  strife  forego. 

And  here  leave  fixed  the  ringlets  in  a  row. 

Now  bid  the  sewer  approach,  and  let  us  join 
In  due  libations,  and  in  rites  divine. 

So  end  our  night:  before  the  day  shall  spring,  280 

The  choicest  offerings  let  Melanthius  bring ; 

Let  then  to  Phoebus’  name  the  fatted  thighs 
Feed  the  rich  smokes,  high  curling  to  the  skies. 

So  shall  the  patron  of  these  arts  bestow 
(For  his  the  gift)  the  skill  to  bend  the  bow.” 

They  heard  well  pleased:  the  ready  heralds  bring 
The  cleansing  waters  from  the  limpid  spring: 

The  goblet  high  with  rosy  wine  they  crown’d, 

In  order  circling  to  the  peers  around. 

That  rite  complete,  up  rose  the  thoughtful  man,  290 
And  thus  his  meditated  scheme  began: 


352 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XXI. 


“If  what  I  ask,  your  noble  minds  approve, 

Ye  peers  and  rivals  in  the  royal  love! 

Chief,  if  it  hurt  not  great  Antinous’  ear, 

(Whose  sage  decision  I  with  wonder  hear,) 

And  if  Eurymachus  the  motion  please. 

Give  Heaven  this  day,  and  rest  the  bow  in  peace. 
To-morrow  let  your  arms  dispute  the  prize. 

And  take  it  he,  the  favour’d  of  the  skies ! 

But,  since  till  then  this  trial  you  delay. 

Trust  it  one  moment  to  my  hands  to-day : 

Fain  would  I  prove,  before  your  judging  eyes. 
What  once  I  was,  whom  wretched  you  despise; 

If  yet  this  arm  its  ancient  force  retain ; 

Or  if  my  woes  (a  long  continued  train) 

And  wants  and  insults,  make  me  less  than  man.” 

Rage  flash’d  in  lightning  from  the  suitors’  eyes, 
Yet  mix’d  with  terror  at  the  bold  emprise. 

Antinous  then:  “Oh,  miserable  guest! 

Is  common  sense  quite  banish’d  from  thy  breast? 
Sufficed  it  not,  within  the  palace  placed. 

To  sit  distinguish’d  with  our  presence  graced. 
Admitted  here  with  princes  to  confer, 

A  man  unknown,  a  needy  wanderer? 

To  copious  wine  this  insolence  we  owe. 

And  much  thy  betters  wine  can  overthrow : 

The  great  Eurytion,  when  this  phrensy  stung, 
Pirithoiis’  roofs  with  frantic  riot  rung ; 

Boundless  the  Centaur  raged;  till  one  and  all 
The  heroes  rose,  and  dragg’d  him  from  the  hall ; 
His  nose  they  shorten’d,  and  his  ears  they  slit. 
And  sent  him  sober’d  home  with  better  wit. 
Hence  with  long  war  the  double  race  was  cursed. 
Fatal  to  all,  but  to  th’  aggressor  first. 

Such  fate  I  prophesy  our  guest  attends. 

If  here  this  interdicted  bow  he  bends: 

Nor  shall  these  walls  such  insolence  contain; 

The  first  fair  wind  transports  him  o’er  the  main. 
Where  Echetus  to  death  the  guilty  brings 
(The  worst  of  mortals,  ev’n  the  worst  of  kings). 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XXI. 


353 


Better  than  that,  if  thou  approve  our  cheer ; 

Cease  the  mad  strife,  and  share  our  bounty  here.” 

To  this  the  queen  her  just  dislike  express’d: 

“’Tis  impious,  prince,  to  harm  the  stranger-guest, 

Base  to  insult  who  bears  a  suppliant’s  name. 

And  some  r-espect  Telemachus  may  claim. 

What  if  th’  immortals  on  the  man  bestow 
Sufficient  strength  to  draw  the  mighty  bow? 

Shall  I,  a  queen,  by  vival  chiefs  adored. 

Accept  a  wandering  stranger  for  my  lord?  340 

A  hope  so  idle  never  touch’d  his  brain: 

Then  ease  your  bosoms  of  a  fear  so  vain. 

Far  be  he  banish’d  from  this  stately  scene 

Who  wrongs  his  princess  with  a  thought  so  mean.” 

“O  fair!  and  wisest  of  so  fair  a  kind!” 

Respectful  thus  Eurymachus  rejoin’d, 

“Moved  by  no  weak  surmise,  but  sense  of  shame. 

We  dread  the  all-arraigning  voice  of  Fame: 

We  dread  the  censure  of  the  meanest  slave. 

The  weakest  woman:  all  can  wrong  the  brave:  350 

‘Behold  what  wretches  to  the  bed  pretend 

Of  that  brave  chief,  whose  bow  they  could  not  bend ! 

In  came  a  beggar  of  the  strolling  crew. 

And  did  what  all  those  princes  could  not  do.’ 

Thus  will  the  common  voice  our  deed  defame. 

And  thus  posterity  upbraid  our  name.” 

To  whom  the  queen:  “If  fame  engage  your  view's, 
Forbear  those  acts  which  infamy  pursues: 

Wrong  and  oppression  no  renown  can  raise; 

Know,  friend !  that  virtue  is  the  path  to  praise.  360 

The  stature  of  our  guest,  his  port,  his  face. 

Speak  him  descended  from  no  vulgar  race. 

To  him  the  bow,  as  he  desires,  convey ; 

And  to  his  hand,  if  Phoebus  give  the  day, 

I  Hence,  to  reward  his  merit,  he  shall  bear 
I  A  two-edged  faulchion,  and  a  shining  spear. 

Embroider’d  sandals,  a  rich  cloak  and  vest, 

*  And  safe  conveyance  to  his  port  of  rest.” 

X 


354 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XXI. 


“Oh,  royal  mother!  ever-honour’d  name! 

Permit  me,”  cries  Telemachus,  “to  claim  370 

A  son’s  just  right.  No  Grecian  prince  but  I 
Has  power  this  bow  to  grant,  or  to  deny. 

Of  all  that  Ithaca’s  rough  hills  contain. 

And  all  wide  Elis’  courser-breeding-plain. 

To  me  alone  my  father’s  arms  descend; 

And  mine  alone  they  are,  to  give  or  lend. 

Retire,  oh  queen !  thy  household  task  resume. 

Tend,  with  thy  maids,  the  labours  of  the  loom ; 

The  bow,  the  darts,  and  arms  of  chivalry. 

These  cares  to  man  belong,  and  most  to  me.”  380 

Mature  beyond  his  years,  the  queen  admired 
His  sage  reply,  and  with  her  train  retired; 

There  in  her  chamber  as  she  sate  apart, 

Revolved  his  words,  and  placed  them  in  her  heart. 

On  her  Ulysses  then  she  fix’d  her  soul ; 

Down  her  fair  cheeks  the  tears  abundant  roll, 

Till  gentle  Pallas,  piteous  of  her  cries. 

In  slumber  closed  her  silver-streaming  eyes. 

Now  through  the  press  the  bow  Eummus  bore. 

And  all  was  riot,  noise  and  wild  uproar.  390 

“Hold!  lawless  rustic!  whither  wilt  thou  go? 

To  whom,  insensate,  dost  thou  bear  the  bow? 

Exiled  from  this  to  some  sequester’d  den. 

Far  from  the  sweet  society  of  men, 

To  thy  own  dogs  a  prey  thou  shalt  be  made ; 

If  Heaven  and  Phoebus  lend  the  suitors  aid !” 

Thus  they.  Aghast  he  laid  the  weapon  down. 

But  bold  Telemachus  thus  urged  him  on; 

“Proceed,  false  slave!  and  slight  their  empty  words; 
What!  hopes  the  fool  to  please  so  many  lords?  400 

Young  as  I  am,  thy  prince’s  vengeful  hand. 

Stretch’d  forth  in  wrath,  shall  drive  thee  from  the  land. 
Oh !  could  the  vigour  of  this  arm  as  well 
Th’  oppressive  suitors  from  my  walls  expel ! 

Then  what  a  shoal  of  lawless  men  should  go 
To  fill  with  tumult  the  dark  courts  below !” 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XXI. 


355 


The  suitors  with  a  scornful  smile  survey 
The  youth,  indulging  in  the  genial  day. 

Eumseus,  thus  encouraged,  hastes  to  bring 
The  strifeful  bow,  and  gives  it  to  the  king. 

Old  Euryclea  calling  then  aside, 

“Hear  what  Telemachus  enjoins,’  he  cried; 

“At  every  portal  let  some  matron  wait, 

And  each  lock  fast  the  well-compacted  gate; 

And  if  unusual  sounds  invade  their  ear, 

If  arms,  or  shouts,  or  dying  groans  they  hear, 

Let  none  to  call,  or  issue  forth  presume, 

But  close  attend  the  labours  of  the  loom.’’ 

Her  prompt  obedience  on  his  order  waits ; 

Closed  in  an  instant  were  the  palace-ptes. 

In  the  same  moment  forth  Philetius  flies. 

Secures  the  court,  and  with  a  cable  ties 
The  utmost  gate,  (the  cable,  strongly  wrought 
Of  Byblos’  reed,  a  ship  from  Egypt  brought;) 

Then  unperceived  and  silent  at  the  boaid 
His  seat  he  takes;  his  eyes  upon  his  lord. 

And  now  his  well-known  bow  the  mastei  boie. 
Turn’d  on  all  sides,  and  view’d  it  o’er  and  o’er ; 

Lest  time  or  worms  had  done  the  weapon  wrong. 

Its  owner  absent,  and  untried  so  long. 

While  some,  deriding:  “How  he  turns  the  bow! 
Some  other  like  it  sure  the  man  must  know. 

Or  else  would  copy;  or  in  bows  he  deals; 

Perhaps  he  makes  them,  or  perhaps  he  steals.” 

“Heaven  to  this  wretch,”  another  cried,  “be  kind! 
And  bless,  in  all  to  which  he  stands  inclined, 

With  such  good  fortune  as  he  now  shall  find.” 

Heedless  he  heard  them:  but  disdain’d  reply, 

The  bow  perusing  with  exactest  eye. 

Then,  as  some  heavenly  minstrel,  taught  to  sing 
High  notes  responsive  to  the  trembling  string. 

To  some  new  strain  when  he  adapts  the  lyi  e. 

Or  the  dumb  lute  refits  with  vocal  wire. 

Relaxes,  strains,  and  draws  them  to  and  fro,. 

So  the  great  master  drew  the  mighty  bow: 


410 


420 


430 


440 


356  the  odyssey,  BOOK  XXI. 

And  drew  with  ease.  One  hand  aloft  display’d 
The  bending  horns,  and  one  the  string  essay’d. 

From  his  essaying  hand  the  string  let  fly, 

Twang’d  short  and  sharp,  like  the  shrill  swallow’s  cry. 

A  general  horror  ran  through  all  the  race,  450 

Sunk  was  each  heart,  and  pale  was  every  face. 

Signs  from  above  ensued:  th’  unfolding  sky 
In  lightning  burst;  Jove  thunder’d  from  on  high. 

Fired  at  the  call  of  heaven’s  Almighty  Lord, 

He  snatch’d  the  shaft  that  glitter’d  on  the  board: 

(Fast  by,  the  rest  lay  sleeping  in  the  sheath. 

But  soon  to  fly  the  messengers  of  death.) 

Now,  sitting  as  he  was,  the  cord  he  drew. 

Through  every  ringlet  levelling  his  view; 

Then  notch’d  the  shaft,  released,. and  gave  it  wing;  460 
The  whizzing  arrow  vanish’d  from  the  string. 

Sung  on  direct,  and  threaded  every  ring. 

The  solid  gate  its  fury  scarcely  bounds ; 

Pierced  through  and  through,  the  solid  gate  resounds. 
Then  to  the  prince:  “Nor  have  I  wrought  thee  shame: 
Nor  err’d  this  hand  unfaithful  to  its  aim; 

Nor  proved  the  toil  too  hard ;  nor  have  I  lost 
That  ancient  vigour,  once  my  pride  and  boast.  ^ 

Ill  I  deserved  these  haughty  peers’  disdain ; 

Now  let  them  comfort  their  dejected  train,  470 

In  sweet  repast  the  present  hour  employ. 

Nor  wait  till  evening  for  the  genial  joy: 

Then  to  the  lute’s  soft  voice  prolong  the  night; 

Music,  the  banquet’s  most  refined  delight.” 

He  said,  then  gave  a  nod ;  and  at  the  word 
Telemachus  girds  on  his  shining  sword. 

Fast  by  his  father’s  side  he  takes  his  stand: 

The  beamy  javelin  lightens  in  his  hand. 


BOOK  XXII. 

The  Death  of  the  Suitors,  and  the  Recognition  of  Ulysses. 

Argument —Ulysses  begins  the  slaughter  of  the  suitors  by  the  death  of 
Antmoiis.  He  declares  himself,  and  lets  fly  his  arrows  at  the  rest. 
Telemachus  assists,  and  brings  arms  for  his  father,  himself,  Eumseus,  and 
Philetius.  Melanthius  does  the  same  for  the  wooers.  Minerva  encour- 
a°-es  Ulysses  in  the  shape  of  Mentor.  The  suitors  are  all  slain,  only 
Medon  and  Phemius  are  spared.  Melanthius  and  the  unfaithful  servants 
are  executed.  The  rest  acknowledge  their  master  with  all  demonstrations 

of  joy. 

Then  fierce  the  hero  o’er  the  threshold  strode; 

Stripp’d  of  his  rags,  he  blazed  out  like  a  god. 

Full  in  their  face  the  lifted  bow  he  bore, 

And  quiver’d  deaths,  a  formidable  store: 

Before  his  feet  the  rattling  shower  he  threw. 

And  thus,  terrific,  to  the  suitor-crew: 

“One  venturous  game  this  hand  has  won  to-day. 
Another,  princes!  yet  remains  to  play; 

Another  mark  our  arrow  must  attain. 

Phoebus,  assist!  nor  be  the  labour  vain.”  ^  10 

Swift  as  the  word,  the  parting  arrow  sings. 

And  bears  thy  fate,  Antinous,  on  its  wings : 

Wretch  that  he  was,  of  unprophetic  soul ! 

High  in  his  hands  he  rear’d  the  golden  bowl! 

Ev’n  then  to  drain  it  lengthen’d  out*his  breath; 

Changed  to  the  deep,  the  bitter  draught  of  death: 

For  Fate  who  fear’d  amidst  a  feastful  band? 

And  Fate  to  numbers,  by  a  single  hand? 

Full  through  his  throat  Ulysses’  weapon  pass’d. 

And  pierced  the  neck.  He  falls,  and  breathes  his  last.  20 
The  tumbling  goblet  the  wide  floor  o’erflows, 

A  stream  of  gore  burst  spouting  from  his  nose ; 

Grim  in  convulsive  agonies  he  sprawls: 

Before  him  spurn’d,  the  loaded  table  falls. 


358 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XXII. 


And  spreads  the  pavement  with  a  mingled  flood 
Of  floating  meats,  and  wine,  and  human  blood.  ' 
Amazed,  confounded,  as  they  saw  him  fall,  '' 

Uprose  the  throng  tumultuous  round  the  hall; 

O’er  all  the  dome  they  cast  a  haggard  eye, 

Each  look’d  for  arms :  in  vain ;  no  arms  were  nigh.  30 
“Aim’st  thou  at  princes?”  all  amazed  they  said; 

“Thy  last  of  games  unhappy  hast  thou  play’d; 

Thy  erring  shaft  has  made  our  bravest  bleed. 

And  death,  unlpcky  guest,  attends  thy  deed. 

Vultures  shall  tear  thee.” — Thus  incensed  they  spoke, 
While  each  to  chance  ascribed  the  v/ondrous  stroke. 

Blind  as  they  were :  for  death  even  now  invades 
His  destined  prey,  and  wraps  them  all  in  shades. 

Then  grimly  frowning,  with  a  dreadful  look 
That  wither’d  all  their  hearts,  Ulysses  spoke:  40 

“  Dogs,  ye  have  had  your  day !  ye  fear’d  no  more 
Ulysses  vengeful  from  the  Trojan  shore ; 

While,  to  your  lust  and  spoil  a  guardless  prey, 

Our  house,  our  wealth,  our  helpless  handmaids  lay: 

Not  so  content,  with  bolder  phrensy  fired. 

Even  to  our  bed  presumptuous  you  aspired : 

Laws,  or  divine  or  human  fail’d,  to  move. 

Or  shame  of  men,  or  dread  of  gods  above ; 

Heedless  alike  of  infamy  or  praise. 

Or  Fame’s  eternal  voice  in  future  days:  50 

The  hour  of  vengeance,  wretches,  now  is  come. 
Impending  fate  is  yours,  and  instant  doom.” 

Thus  dreadful  he.  Confused  the  suitors  stood, 

From  their  pale  cheeks  recedes  the  flying  blood: 
Trembling  they  sought  their  guilty  heads  to  hide. 

Alone  the  bold  Eurymachus  replied: 

“If,  as  thy  words  import,”  he  thus  began, 

“Ulysses  lives,  and  thou  the  mighty  man. 

Great  are  thy  wrongs,  and  much  hast  thou  sustain’d 
In  thy  spoil’d  palace,  and  exhausted  land ; 

The  cause  and  author  of  those  guilty  deeds, 

Lo !  at  thy  feet,  unjust  Antinoiis,  bleeds. 


60 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XXII. 


359 


Not  love,  but  wild  ambition,  was  his  guide; 

To  slay  thy  son,  thy  kingdom  to  divide. 

These  were  his  aims;  but  juster  Jove  denied. 

Since  cold  in  death  th’  offender  lies,  oh !  spare 
Thy  suppliant  people,  and  receive  their  prayer! 
Brass,  gold,  and  treasures,  shall  the  spoil  defray. 
Two  hundred  oxen  every  prince  shall  pay ; 

The  waste  of  years  refunded  in  a  day. 

Till  then  thy  wrath  is  just.”-— Ulysses  burn’d 
With  high  disdain,  and  sternly  thus  return’d: 

“All,  all  the  treasures  that  enrich’d  our  throne 
Before  your  rapines,  join’d  with  all  your  own. 

If  offer’d,  vainly  should  for  mercy  call; 

’Tis  you  that  offer,  and  I  scorn  them  all ; 

Your  blood  is  my  demand,  your  lives  the  prize. 

Till  pale  as  yonder  wretch  each  suitor  lies. 

Hence  with  those  coward  terms;  or  fight  or  fly; 
This  choice  is  left  you,  to  resist  or  die: 

And  die  I  trust  ye  shall.”— He  sternly  spoke: 

With  guilty  fears  the  pale  assembly  shook. 

Alone  Eurymachus  exhorts  the  train: 

“Yon  archer,  comrades,  will  not  shoot  in  vain; 
But  from  the  threshold  shall  his  darts  be  sped 
(Whoe’er  he  be)  till  every  prince  lie  dead? 

Be  mindful  of  yourselves,  draw  forth  your  swords. 
And  to  his  shafts  obtend  these  ample  boards 
(So  need  compels).  Then,  all  united,  strive 
Tiie  bold  invader  from  his  post  to  drive; 

The  city,  roused,  shall  to  our  rescue  haste. 

And  this  mad  archer  soon  have  shot  his  last.” 

Swift  as  he  spoke,  he  drew  his  traitor  sword. 
And  like  a  lion  rush’d  against  his  lord:  ^ 

The  wary  chief  the  rushing  foe  repress’d. 

Who  met  the  point,  and  forced  it  in  his  breast : 

His  falling  hand  deserts  the  lifted  sword. 

And  prone  he  falls,  extended  o’er  the  board  1 
Before  him  wide,  in  mix’d  effusion,  roll 
Th’  untasted  viands,  and  the  jovial  bowl. 


70 


80 


90 


100 


360 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XXII. 


Full  through  his  liver  pass’d  the  mortal  wound, 

With  dying  rage  his  forehead  beats  the  ground; 

He  spurn’d  the  seat  with  fury  as  he  fell, 

And  the  fierce  soul  to  darkness  dived,  and  hell. 

Next  bold  Amphinomus  his  arm  extends 
To  force  the  pass;  the  godlike  man  defends. 

Thy  spear,  Telemachus,  prevents  th’  attack. 

The  brazen  weapon  driving  through  4iis  back. 

Thence  through  his  breast  its  bloody  passage  tore. 

Flat  falls  he  thundering  on  the  marble  floor,  110 

And  his  crush’d  forehead  marks  the  stone  with  gore. 

He  left  his  javelin  in  the  dead,  for  fear 
The  long  encumbrance  of  the  weighty  spear 
To  the  fierce  foe  advantage  might  afford. 

To  rush  between,  and  use  the  shorten’d  sword. 

With  speedy  ardour  to  his  sire  he  flies. 

And,  “  Arm,  great  father !  arm !”  in  haste  he  cries : 

“Lo,  hence  I  run  for  other  arms  to  wield. 

For  missile  javelins,  and  for  helm  and  shield; 

Fast  by  our  side  let  either  faithful  swain  120 

In  arms  attend  us,  and  their  part  sustain.” 

“Haste  and  return,”  Ulysses  made  reply. 

While  yet  th’  auxiliar  shafts  this  hand  supply; 

Lest  thus  alone,  encounter’d  by  a  host. 

Driven  from  the  gate,  th’  important  pass  be  lost.” 

With  speed  Telemachus  obeys,  and  flies 
Where  piled  in  heaps  the  royal  armour  lies; 

Four  brazen  helmets,  eight  refulgent  spears. 

And  four  broad  bucklers  to  his  sire  he  bears: 

At  once  in  brazen  panoply  they  shone,  130 

At  once  each  servant  braced  his  armour  on; 

Around  the  king  a  faithful  guard  they  stand. 

While  yet  each  shaft  flew  deathful  from  his  hand : 

Chief  after  chief  expired  at  every  wound. 

And  swell’d  the  bleeding  mountain  on  the  ground. 

Soon  as  his  store  of  flying  fates  was  spent. 

Against  the  wall  he  set  the  bow  unbent ; 

And  now  his  shoulders  bear  the  massy  shield. 

And  now  his  hands  two  beamy  javelins  wield : 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XXII.  3G1 

He  frowns  beneath  his  nodding  plume,  that  play’d  140 
O’er  the  high  crest,  and  cast  a  dreadful  shade. 

There  stood  a  window  near,  whence  looking  down 
From  o’er  the  porch  appeared  the  subject  town. 

A  double  strength  of  valves  secured  the  place, 

A  high  and  narrow,  but  the  only  pass : 

The  cautious  king,  with  all-preventing  care, 

To  guard  that  outlet,  placed  Eummus  there: 

When  Agelaiis  thus:  “Has  none  the  sense 
To  mount  yon  window,  and  alarm  from  thence 
The  neighbour  town?  the  town  shall  force  the  door,  150 
And  this  bold  archer  soon  shall  shoot  no  more.” 

Melanthius  then:  “That  outlet  to  the  gate 
So  near  adjoins,  that  one  may  guard  the  strait. 

But  other  methods  of  defence  remain; 

Myself  with  arms  can  furnish  all  the  train ; 

Stores  from  the  royal  magazine  I  bring. 

And  their  own  darts  shall  pierce  the  prince  and  king.” 

He  said ;  ai\d  mounting  up  the  lofty  stairs. 

Twelve  shields,  twelve  lances,  and  twelve  helmets  bears : 
All  arm,  and  sudden  round  the  hall  appears  160 

A  blaze  of  bucklers,  and  a  wood  of  spears. 

The  hero  stands  oppress’d  with  mighty  wo; 

On  every  side  he  sees  the  labour  grow: 

“Oh,  cursed  event!  and,  oh,  unlook’d-for  aid! 

Melanthius  or  the  women  have  betray’d — 

Oh,  my  dear  son!” — The  father,  with  a  sigh. 

Then  ceased;  the  filial  virtue  made  reply: 

“Falsehood  is  folly,  and  ’tis  just  to  own 
The  fault  committed:  this  was  mine  alone; 

My  haste  neglected  yonder  door  to  bar,  170 

And  hence  the  villain  has  supplied  their  war. 

Run,  good  Eumssus,  then,  and  (what  before 
I  thoughtless  err’d  in)  well  secure  that  door: 

Learn,  if  by  female  fraud  this  deed  were  done. 

Or  (as  my  thought  misgives)  by  Dolius’  son.” 

While  yet  they  spoke,  in  quest  of  arms  again 
To  the  high  chamber  stole  the  faithless  swain, 

16 


i 


362  the  odyssey,  BOOK  XXII. 

Not  unobserved.  Eumseus  watchful  eyed, 

And  thus  address’d  Ulysses  near  his  side : 

“The  miscreant  we  suspected  takes  that  way;  ,180 
Him,  if  this  arm  be  powerful,  shall  I  slay  ? 

Or  drive  him  hither,  to  receive  the  meed. 

From  thy  own  hand,  of  this  detested  deed?” 

“Not  so,”  replied  Ulysses;  “leave  him  there; 

For  us  sufficient  is  another  care ; 

Within  the  structure  of  this  palace-wall 
To  keep  enclosed  his  masters  till  they  fall: 

Go  you,  and  seize  the  felon;  backward  bind 
His  arms  and  legs,  and  fix  a  plank  behind ; 

On  this  his  body  by  strong  cords  extend,  190 

And  on  a  column  near  the  roof  suspend : 

So  studied  tortures  his  vile  days  shall  end.” 

The  ready  swains  obey’d  with  joyful  haste. 

Behind  the  felon  unperceived  they  pass’d. 

As  round  the  room  in  quest  of  arms  he  goes ; 

(The  half-shut  door  conceal’d  his  lurking  foes :) 

One  hand  sustain’d  a  helm,  and  one  the  shield 
Which  old  Laertes  wont  in  youth  to  wield. 

Cover’d  with  dust,  with  dryness  chapp’d  and  worn. 

The  brass  corroded,  and  the  leather  torn.  200 

Thus  laden,  o’er  the  threshold  as  he  stepp’d. 

Fierce  on  the  villain  from  each  side  they  leap’d. 

Back  by  the  hair  the  trembling  dastard  drew, 

And  down  reluctant  on  the  pavement  threw. 

Active  and  pleased  the  zealous  swains  fulfil 
At  every  point  their  master’s  rigid  will: 

First,  fast  behind,  his  hands  and  feet  they  bound. 

Then  straiten’d  cords  involved  his  body  round; 

So  drawn  aloft,  athwart  the  column  tied. 

The  howling  felon  swung  from  side  to  side.  210 

Eummus,  scoffing,  then  with  keen  disdain: 

“There  pass  thy  pleasing  night,  oh  gentle  swain! 

On  that  soft  pillow,  from  that  envied  height. 

First  may’st  thou  see  the  springing  dawn  of  light; 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XXII. 


363 


So  timely  rise,  when  morning  streaks  the  east, 

To  drive  thy  victims  to  the  suitors’  feast.” 

This  said,  they  left  him,  tortured  as  he  lay. 

Secured  the  door,  and  hasty  strode  away: 

Each,  breathing  death,  resumed  his  dangerous  post 
Near  great  Ulysses;  four  against  a  host. 

When,  lo !  descending  to  her  hero’s  aid, 

Jove’s  daughter,  Pallas,  war’s  triumphant  maid; 

In  Mentor’s  friendly  form  she  join’d  his  side : 

Ulysses  saw,  and  thus  with  transport  cried : 

“Come,  ever  welcome,  and  thy  succour  lendj 
Oh,  every  sacred  name  in  one !  my  friend ! 

Early  we  loved,  and  long  our  loves  have  grown: 
Whate’er  through  life’s  whole  series  I  have  done. 

Or  good,  or  grateful,  now  to  mind  recall. 

And,  aiding  this  one  hour,  repay  it  all.” 

Thus  he;  but  pleasing  hopes  his  bosom  warm, 

Of  Pallas  latent  in  the  friendly  form. 

The  adverse  host  the  phantom-warrior  eyed. 

And  first,  loud  threatening,  Agelaus  cried : 

“Mentor,  beware,  nor  let  that  tongue  persuade 
Thy  frantic  arm  to  lend  Ulysses  aid; 

Our  force  successful  shall  our  threat  make  good. 

And  with  the  sire  and  son’s  commix  thy  blood. 

What  hop’st  thou  here?  Thee  first  the  sword  shall  slay. 
Then  lop  thy  whole  posterity  away ;  24( 

Far  hence  thy  banish’d  consort  shall  we  send; 

With  his,  thy  forfeit  lands  and  treasures  blend ; 

Thus,  and  thus  only,  shalt  thou  join  thy  friend.” 

His  barbarous  insult  even  the  goddess  fires. 

Who  thus  the  warrior  to  revenge  inspires: 

“Art  thou  Ulysses?  where  then  shall  we  find 
The  patient  body  and  the  constant  mind? 

That  courage,  once  the  Trojans’  daily  dread. 

Known  nine  long  years,  and  felt  by  heroes  dead? 

And  where  that  conduct  which  revenged  the  lust  2.5( 
Of  Priam’s  race,  and  laid  proud  Troy  in  dust? 


220 


230 


364  the  odyssey,  BOOK  XXII. 

If  this,  when  Helen  was  the  cause,  were  done. 

What  for  thy  country  now,'  thy  queen,  thy  son? 

Rise  then  in  combat,  at  my  side  attend; 

Observe  what  vigour  gratitude  can  lend. 

And  foes  how  weak,  opposed  against  a  friend!” 

She  spoke ;  but  willing  longer  to  survey 
The  sire  and  son’s  great  acts,  withheld  the  day; 

By  farther  toils  decreed  the  brave  to'  try, 

And  level  poised  the  wings  of  victory ;  260 

Then  with  a  change  of  form  eludes  their  sight. 

Perch’d  like  a  swallow  on  a  rafter’s  height. 

And  unperceived  enjoys  the  rising  fight. 

Damastes’  son,  bold  Agelaus,  leads 
The  guilty  war;  Eurynomus  succeeds; 

With  these,  Pisander,  great  Polyctor’s  son,  ^ 

Sage  Polybus,  and  stern  Amphimedon, 

With  Demoptolemus:  these  six  survive; 

The  best  of  all  the  shafts  had  left  alive. 

Amidst  the  carnage,  desperate  as  they  stand,  270 

Thus  Agelaus  roused  the  lagging  band: 

“The  hour  is  come,  when  yon  fierce  man  no  more 
With  bleeding  princes  shall  bestrew  the  floor. 

Lo  1  Mentor  leaves  him  with  an  empty  boast ; 

The-  four  remain,  but  four  against  a  host. 

Let  each  at  once  discharge  the  deadly  dart. 

One,  sure,  of  six,  shall  reach  Ulysses’  heart : 

The  rest  must  perish,  their  great  leader  slain: 

Thus  shall  one  stroke  the  glory  lost  regain.” 

Then  all  at  once  their  mingled  lances  threw,  280 

And  thirsty  all  of  one  man’s  blood  they  flew ; 

In  vain  1  Minerva  turn’d  them  with  her  breath. 

And  scatter’d  short  or  wide  the  points  of  death! 

With  deaden’d  sound  one  on  the  threshold  falls. 

One  strikes  the  gate,  one  rings  against  the  walls: 

The  storm  pass’d  innocent.  The  godlike  man 
Now  loftier  trod,  and  dreadful  thus  began: 

“’Tis  now,  brave  friends,  our  turn,  at  once  to  throw 
(So  speed  them  Heaven !)  our  javelins  at  the  foe : 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XXII. 


365 


That  impious  race  to  all  their  past  misdeeds  290 

Would  add  our  blood;  injustice  still  proceeds.” 

He  spoke:  at  once  their  fiery  lances  flew; 

Great  Demoptolemus  Ulysses  slew; 

Euryades  received  the  prince’s  dart; 

The  goatherd’s  quiver’d  in  Pisander’s  heart: 

Fierce  Elatus  by  thine,  Eumeeus,  falls; 

Their  fall  in  thunder  echoes  round  the  walls. 

The  rest  retreat,  the  victors  now  advance,  ’ 

Each  from  the  dead  resumes  his  bloody  lance. 

Again  the  foe  discharge  the  steely  shower ;  300 

Again  made  frustrate  by  the  virgin-power. 

Some,  turn’d  by  Pallas,  on  the  threshold  fall. 

Some  wound  the  gate,  some  ring  against  the  wall ; 

Some,  weak,  or  ponderous  with  the  brazen  head. 

Drop  harmless  on  the  pavement,  sounding  dead. 

Then  bold  Amphimedon  his  javelin  cast: 

Thy  hand,  Telemachus,  it  lightly  razed; 

And  from  Ctesippus’  arm  the  spear  elanced 
On  good  Eumseus’  shield  and  shoulder  glanced : 

Not  lessen’d  of  their  force  (so  slight  the  wound)  310 
Each  sung  along,  and  dropp’d  upon  the  ground. 

Fate  doom’d  thee  next,  Eurydamas,  to  bear 
Thy  death,  ennobled  by  Ulysses’  spear. 

By  the  bold  son  Amphimedon  was  slain. 

And  Polybus  renown’d  the  faithful  swain. 

Pierced  through  the  breast  the  rude  Ctesippus  bled. 

And  thus  Philetius  gloried  o’er  the  dead : 

“  There  end  thy  pompous  vaunts  and  high  disdain ; 

Oh,  sharp  in  scandal,  voluble  and  vain ! 

How  weak  is  mortal  pride !  To  Heaven  alone  320 
Th’  event  of  actions  and  our  fates  are  known. 

Scoffer,  behold  what  gratitude  we  bear: 

The  victim’s  heel  is  answer’d  with  his  spear.” 

Ulysses  brandish’d  high  his  vengeful  steel. 

And  Damastorides  that  instant  fell ; 

Fast  by,  Leocrates  expiring  lay. 

The  prince’s  javelin  tore  its  bloody  way 


366 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XXII. 


Through  all  his  bowels:  down  he  tumbles  prone, 

His  batter’d  front  and  brains  besmear  the  stone. 

Now  Pallas  shines  confess’d!  aloft  she  spreads  330 
The  arm  of  vengeance  o’er  their  guilty  heads ; 

The  dreadful  aegis  blazes  in  their  eye: 

Amazed  they  see,  they  tremble,  and  they  fly : 

Confused,  distracted,  through  the  rooni  they  fling: 

Like  oxen  madden’d  by  the  breeze’s  sting, 

When  sultry  days,  and  long,  succeed  the  gentle  spring. 
Not  half  so  keen  fierce  vultures  of  the  chase 
Stoop  from  the  mountains  on  the  feather’d  race. 

When,  the  wide  field  extended  snares  beset. 

With  conscious  dread  they  shun  the  quivering  net:  340 
No  help,  no  flight;  'but  wounded  every  way. 

Headlong  they  drop;  the  fowlers  seize  the  prey.  J 
On  all  sides  thus  they  double  wound  on  wound. 

In  prostrate  heaps  the  wretches  beat  the  ground: 
Unmanly  shrieks  precede  each  dying  groan. 

And  a  red  deluge  floats  the  reeking  stone. 

Liodes  first  before  the  victor  falls : 

The  wretched  augur  thus  for  mercy  calls : 

“  Oh,  gracious  hear,  nor  let  thy  suppliant  bleed ! 

Still  undishonour’d,  or  by  word  or  deed,  350 

Thy  house,  for  me,  remains ;  by  me  repress’d. 

Full  oft  was  check’d  th’  injustice  of  the  rest : 

Averse  they  heard  me  when  I  counsel’d  well. 

Their  hearts  were  harden’d,  and  they  justly  fell. 

Oh,  spare  an  augur’s  consecrated  head. 

Nor  add  the  blameless  to  the  guilty  dead.” 

“  Priest  as  thou  art  1  for  that  detested  band 
Thy  lying  prophecies  deceived  the  land: 

Against  Ulysses  have  thy  vows  been  made,  , 

For  them  thy  daily  orisons  were  paid.  360 

Yet  more,  even  to  our  bed  thy  pride  aspires: 

One  common  crime  one  common  fate  requires.” 

Thus  speaking,  from  the  ground  the  sword  he  took 
Which  Agelaiis’  dying  hand  forsook: 

Full  through  his  neck  the  weighty  faulchion  sped : 

Along  the  pavement  roll’d  the  muttering  head. 


THE  ODYSSEY,  .  BOOK  XXII.  367 

Phemius  alone  the  hand  of  vengeance  spared, 

Phemius,  the  sweet,  the  heaven-instructed  bard. 

Beside  the  gate  the  reverend  minstrel  stands; 

The  lyre  now  silent,  trembling  in  his  hands;  370 

Dubious  to  supplicate  the  chief,  or  fly 
To  Jove’s  inviolable  altar  nigh. 

Where  oft  Laertes  holy  vows  had  paid, 

And  oft  Ulysses  smoking  victims  laid. 

His  honour’d  harp  with  care  he  first  set  down, 

Between  the  laver  and  the  silver  throne ; 

Then  prostrate  stretch’d  before  the  dreadful  man, 
Persuasive,  thus  with  accent  soft  began: 

“O  king!  to  mercy  be  thy  soul  inclined, 

And  spare  the  poet’s  ever-gentle  kind.  380 

A  deed  like  this  thy  future  fame  would  wrong, 

For  dear  to  gods  and  men  is  sacred  song. 

Self-taught  I  sing:  by  Heaven,  and  Heaven  alone. 

The  genuine  seeds  of  poesy  are  sown: 

And  (what  the  gods  bestow)  the  lofty  lay. 

To  gods  alone,  and  godlike  worth,  we  pay. 

Save  then  the  poet,  and  thyself  reward; 

’Tis  thine  to  merit,  mine  is  to  record. 

That  here  I  sung,  was  force,  and  not  desire: 

This  hand  reluctant  touch’d  the  warbling  wire ;  390 

And  let  thy  son  attest,  nor  sordid  pay. 

Nor  servile  flattery,  stain’d  the  moral  lay.” 

The  moving  words  Telemachus  attends. 

His  sire  approaches,  and  the  bard  defends. 

“Oh,  mix  not,  father,  with  those  impious  dead 
The  man  divine!  forbear  that  sacred  head! 

Medon,  the  herald,  too,  our  arms  may  spare, 

Medon,  who  made  my  infancy  his  care; 

If  yet  he  breathes,  permit  thy  son  to  give 
Thus  much  to  gratitude,  and  bid  him  live.”  400 

Beneath  a  table,  trembling  with  dismay, 

Couch’d  close  to  earth,  unhappy  Medon  lay. 

Wrapp’d  in  a  new-slain  ox’s  ample  hide: 

Swift  at  the  word  he  cast  his  screen  aside, 


368 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XXII. 


Sprung  to  the  prince,  embraced  his  knees  with  tears, 

And  thus  with  grateful  voice  address’d  his  ears: 

“Oh  prince!  oh  friend!  lo  here  thy  Medon  stands: 

Ah,  stop  the  hero’s  unresisted  hands. 

Incensed  too  justly  by  that  impious  brood. 

Whose  guilty  glories  now  are  set  in  blood.”  410 

To  whom  Ulysses,  with  a  pleasing  eye: 

“Be  bold,  on  friendship  and  my  son  rely: 

Live,  an  example  for  the  world  to  read. 

How  much  more  safe  the  good  than  evil  deed: 

Thou  with  the  heaven-taught  bard  in  peace  resort 
From  blood  and  carnage  to  yon  open  court: 

Me  other  work  requires.” — With  timorous  awe 
From  the  dire  scene  th’  exempted  two  withdraw, 

Scarce  sure  of  life,  look  round,  and  trembling  move 
To  the  bright  altars  of  Protector  Jove.  420 

Meanwhile,  Ulysses  search’d  the  dome,  to  find 
If  yet  there  live  of  all  th’  offending  kind. 

Not  one:  complete  the  bloody  tale  he  found. 

All  steep’d  in  blood,  all  gasping  on  the  ground. 

So  when,  by  hollow  shores  the  fisher-train 
Sweep  with  their  arching  nets  the  hoary  main, 

And  scarce  the  meshy  toils  the  copious  draught  contain. 
All  naked  of  their  element,  and  bare. 

The  fishes  pant,  and  gasp  in  thinner  air; 

Wide  o’er  the  sands  are  spread  the  stiffening  prey,  430 
Till  the  warm  sun  exhales  their  soul  away. 

And  now  the  king  commands  his  son  to  call 
Old  Euryclea  to  the  deathful  hall: 

The  son  observant  not  a  moment  stays; 

The  aged  governess  with  speed  obeys; 

The  sounding  portals  instant  they  display; 

The  matron  moves,  the  prince  directs  the  way. 

On  heaps  of  death  the  stern  Ulysses  stood. 

All  black  with  dust,  and  cover’d  thick  with  blood. 

So  the  grim  lion  from  the  slaughter  comes. 

Dreadful  he  glares,  and  terribly  he  foams, 

His  breast  with  marks  of  carnage  painted  o’er, 

His  jaws  all  dropping  with  the  bull’s  black  gore. 


440 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XXII. 

Soon  as  her  eyes  the  welcome  object  met, 

The  guilty  fall’n,  the  mighty  deed  complete, 

A  scream  of  joy  her  feeble  voice  essay’d. 

The  hero  check’d  her,  and  compos’dly  said; 

“Woman,  experienced  as  thou  art,  control 
Indecent  joy,  and  feast  thy  secret  soul. 

T’  insult  the  dead,  is  cruel  and  unjust; 

Fate  and  their  crime  have  sunk  them  to  the  dust. 

Nor  heeded  these  the  censure  of  mankind. 

The  good  and  bad  were  equal  in  their  mind. 

Justly  the  price  of  worthlessness  they  paid. 

And  each  now  wails,  an  unlamented  shade. 

But  thou,  sincere,  oh,  Euryclea!  say. 

What  maids  dishonour  us,  and  what  obey?” 

Then  she:  “In  these  thy  kingly  walls  remain. 

My  son,  full  fifty  of  the  handmaid-train. 

Taught  by  my  care,  to  cull  the  fleece  or  weave. 

And  servitude  with  pleasing  tasks  deceive; 

Of  these,  twice  six  pursue  their  wicked  way. 

Nor  me,  nor  chaste  Penelope  obey; 

Nor  fits  it  that  Telemachus  command. 

Young  as  he  is,  his  mother’s  female  band. 

Hence  to  the  upper  chambers  let  me  fly, 

Where  slumbers  soft  now  close  the  royal  eye; 

There  wake  her  with  the  news !”  the  matron  cried. 

“Not  so,”  Ulysses  more  sedate  replied; 

“Bring  first  the  crew  who  wrought  these  guilty  deeds. 

In  haste  the  matron  parts:  the  king  proceeds:  471 

“Now  to  dispose  the  dead,  the  care  remains 
To  you,  my  son,  and  you,  my  faithful  swains. 

Th’  offending  females  to  that  task  we  doom. 

To  wash,  to  scent,  and  purify  the  lOom. 

These  (every  table  cleansed,  and  every  throne 
And  all  the  melancholy  labour  done) 

Drive  to  yon  court,  without  the  palace-wall. 

There  the  revenging  sword  shall  smite  them  all; 

So  with  the  suitors  let  them  mix  in  dust,^^  48C 

Stretch’d  in  a  long  oblivion  of  their  lust.” 

16^  Y 


369 


450 


370  the  odyssey,  book  XXII. 

He  said :  the  lamentable  train  appear, 

Each  vents  a  groan,  and  drops  a  tender  tear: 

Each  heaved  her  mournful  burden,  and  beneath 
The  porch  deposed  the  ghastly  heaps  of  death. 

The  chief  severe,  compelling  each  to  move. 

Urged  the  dire  task  imperious  from  above: 

With  thirsty  sponge  they  rub  the  tables  o’er; 

(The  swains  unite  their  toil;)  the  walls,  the  floor. 

Wash’d  with  th’  effusive  wave,  are  purged  of  gore;  490 
Once  more  the  palace  set  in  fair  array. 

To  the  base  court  the  females  take  their  way ; 

There,  compass’d  close  between  the  dome  and  wall, 
(Their  life’s  last  scene,)  they  trembling  wait  their  fall. 

Then  thus  the  prince:  “To  these  shall  we  afford 
A  fate  so  pure,  as  by  the  martial  sword?  -j 

To  these,  the  nightly  prostitutes  to  shame. 

And  base  revilers  of  our  house  and  name?” 

Thus  speaking,  on  the  circling  walls  he  strung 
A  ship’s  tough  cable,  from  a  column  hung;  500 

Near  the  high  top  he  strain’d  it  strongly  round. 

Whence  no  contending  foot  could  reach  the  ground. 

Their  heads  above  connected  in  a  row. 

They  beat  the  air  with  quivering  feet  below; 

Thus  on  some  tree,  hung  struggling  in  the  snare. 

The  doves  or  thrushes  flap  their  wings  in  air. 

Soon  fled  their  soul  impure,  and  left  behind 
The  empty  corse  to  waver  with  the  wind. 

Then  forth  they  led  Melanthius,  and  began 
Their  bloody  work;  they  lopp’d  away  the  man,  510 
Morsel  for  dogs !  then  trimm’d  with  brazen  shears 
The  wretch,  and  shorten’d  of  his  nose  and  ears ; 

His  hands  and  feet  last  felt  the  cruel  steel : 

He  roar’d,  and  torments  gave  his  soul  to  hell. 

They  wash,  and  to  Ulysses  take  their  way ; 

So  ends  the  bloody  business  of  the  day. 

To  Euryclea  then  address’d  the  king: 

“Bring  hither  fire,  and  hither  sulphur  bring, 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XXII.  371 

To  purge  the  palace:  then  the  queen  attend, 

And  let  her  with  her  matron-train  descend ;  520 

The  matron-train,  with  all  the  virgin-band. 

Assemble  here  to  learn  their  lord’s  command.” 

Then  Euryclea:  “Joyful  I  obey. 

But  cast  those  mean,  dishonest  rags  away ; 

Permit  me  first  the  royal  robes  to  bring; 

Ill  suits  this  garb  the  shoulders  of  a  king.” 

“Bring  sulphur  straight  and  fire,”  the  monarch  cries. 
She  hears,  and  at  the  word  obedient  flies. 

With  fire  and  sulphur,  cure  of  noxious  fumes, 

He  purged  the  walls,  and  blood-polluted  rooms.  530 

Again  the  matron  springs  with  eager  pace. 

And  spreads  her  lord’s  return  from  place  to  place. 

They  hear,  rush  forth,  and  instant  round  him  stand, 

A  gazing  throng,  a  torch  in  every  hand. 

.  They  saw,  they  knew  him,  and  with  fond  embrace 
Each  humbly  kiss’d  his  knee,  or  hand,  or  face; 

He  knows  them  all,  in  all  such  truth  appears, 

Ev’n  he  indulges  the  sweet  joy  of  tears. 


BOOK  XXIII. 

Interview  of  Penelope  and  TTlysses  after  the  Suitors’  Death. 

Argument. — Euryclea  awakens  Penelop^  with  the  news  of  Ulysses’  return 
and  the  death  of  the  suitors.  Penelopd  scarcely  credits  her ;  but  supposes 
some  god  has  punished  them,  and  descends  from  her  apartment  in  doubt. 
At  the  first  interview  of  Ulysses  and  Penelop^,  she  is  quite  unsatisfied. 
Minerva  restores  him  to  the  beauty  of  his  youth  ;  but  the  queen  continues 
incredulous,  till  by  some  circumstances  she  is  convinced,  and  falls  into 
all  the  transports  of  passion  and  tenderness.  They  recount  to  each  other 
all  that  has  passed  during  their  long  separation.  The  next  morning 
Ulysses,  arming  himself  and  his  friends,  goes  from  the  city  to^dsit  his 
father.  ‘ 

Then  to  the  queen,  as  in  repose  she  lay, 

The  nurse  with  eager  rapture  speeds  her  way; 

The  transports  of  her  faithful  heart  supply 
A  sudden  youth,  and  give  her  wings  to  fly. 

“And  sleeps  my  child?”  the  reverend  matron  cries; 
“Ulysses  lives!  Arise,  my  child,  arise! 

At  length  appears  the  long-expected  hour!^ 

Ulysses  comes !  the  suitors  are  no  more ! 

No  more  they  view  the  golden  light  of  day! 

Arise,  and  bless  thee  with  the  glad  survey!”  10 

Touch’d  at  her  words,  the  mournful  queen  rejoin’d: 
“Ah!  whither  wanders  thy  distemper’d  mind? 

The  righteous  powers,  who  tread  the  starry  skies, 

The  weak  enlighten,  and  confound  the  wise. 

And  human  thought,  with  unresisted  sway. 

Depress  or  raise,  enlarge  or  take  away: 

Truth,  by  their  high  decree,  thy  voice  forsakes. 

And  folly  with  the  tongue  of  wisdom  speaks. 

Unkind,  the  fond  illusion  to  impose! 

Was  it  to  flatter  or  deride  my  woes? 

Never  did  I  a  sleep  so  sweet  enjoy. 

Since  my  dear  lord  left  Ithaca  for  Troy. 


20 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XXIII. 


373 


Why  must  I  wake  to  grieve,  and  curse  thy  shore, 

O  Troy? — may  never  tongue  pronounce  thee  more! 
Begone  I  another  might  have  felt  our  rage. 

But  age  is  sacred,  and  we  spare  thy  age.” 

To  whom  with  warmth:  “My  soul  a  lie  disdains: 
Ulysses  lives,  thy  own  Ulysses  reigns: 

That  stranger^  patient  of  the  suitors’  wrongs, 

And  the  rude  license  of  ungovern’d  tongues,  30 

He,  he  is  thine.  Thy  son  his  latent  guest 
Long  knew,  but  lock’d  the  secret  in  his  breast ; 

With  well-concerted  art  to  end  his  woes. 

And  burst  at  once  in  vengeance  on  the  foes.” 

While  yet  she  spoke,  the  queen  in  transport  sprung 
Swift  from  the  couch,  and  round  the  matron  hung: 

Fast  from  her  eye  descends  the  rolling  tear. 

“Say,  once  more  say,  is  my  Ulysses  here? 

How  could  that  numerous  and  outrageous  band 
By  one  be  slain,  though  by  a  hero’s  hand?”  40 

“I  saw  it  not,”  she  cried,  “but  heard  alone. 

When  death  was  busy,  a  loud  dying  groan ; 

The  damsel-train  turn’d  pale  at  every  wound; 

Immured  we  sate,  and  caught  each  passing  sound; 

When  death  had  seized  his  prey,  thy  son  attends. 

And  at  his  nod  the  damsel-train  descends : 

There,  terrible  in  arms,  Ulysses  stood. 

And  the  dead  suitors  almost  swam  in  blood: 

Thy  heart  had  leap’d  the  hero  to  survey. 

Stern  as  the  surly  lion  o’er  his  prey. 

Glorious  in  gore  1 — now  with  sulphureous  fires 
The  dome  he  purges,  now  the  flame  aspires ; 

Heap’d  lie  the  dead  without  the  palace  walls — 

Haste,  daughter,  haste!  thy  own  Ulysses  calls: 

Thy  every  wish  the  bounteous  gods  bestow ; 

Enjoy  the  present  good,  and  former  wo. 

Ulysses  lives,  his  vanquish’d  foes  to  see; 

He  lives  to  thy  Telemachus  and  thee !” 

“Ah,  no!”  with  sighs  Penelope  rejoin’d, 

“Excess  of  joy  disturbs  thy  wandering  mind. 


60 


374  the  odyssey,  BOOK  XXIII. 

How  bless’d  this  happy  hourj  should  he  appear,  ■' 

Dear  to  us  all,  to  me  supremely  dear! 

Ah,  no  1  some  god  the  suitors’  deaths  decreed,  ^ 

Some  god  descends,  and  by  his  hand  they  bleed. 

Blind  1  to  contemn  the  stranger’s  righteous  cause,  ^ 
And  violate  all  hospitable  laws! 

The  good  they  hated,  and  the  powers  defied 

But  Heaven  is  just,  and  by  a  god  they  died.  :  ' 

For  never  must  Ulysses  view  this  shore ;  ?  -  ■ 

Never!  the  loved  Ulysses  is  no  more!”  70 

“  What  words,”  the  matron  cries, “have  reach’d  my  ears  ? 
Doubt  we  his  presence,  when  he  now  appears? 

Then  hear  conviction:  Ere  the  fatal  day 

That  forced  Ulysses  o’er  the  watery  way,  • 

A  boar,  fierce  rushing  in  the  sylvan  war, 

Plough’d  half  his  thigh;  I  saw,  I  saw  the  scar. 

And  with  wild  transport  had  reveal’d  the  wound ;  A 
But  ere  I  spoke,  he  rose,  and  check’d  the  sound.  f 

Then,  daughter,  haste  away !  and  if  a  lie 
Flow  from  this  tongue,  then  let  thy  servant  die !”  80 

To  whom  with  dubious  joy  the  queen  replies; 

“Wise  is  thy  soul,  but  errors  seize  the  wise; 

The  works  of  gods  what  mortal  can  survey? 

Who  knows  their  motives,  who  shall  trace  their  way? 

But  learn  we  instant  how  the  suitors  trod 
The  paths  of  death,  by  man,  or  by  a  god.” 

Thus  speaks  the  queen,  and  no  reply  attends. 

But  with  alternate  joy  and  fear  descends;  . 

At  every  step  debates  her  lord  to  prove; 

Or,  rushing  to  his  arms,  confess  her  love !  90 

Then  gliding  through  the  marble  valves,  in  state 
Opposed,  before  the  shining  sire  she  sate. 

The  monarch,  by  a  column  high  enthroned. 

His  eye  withdrew,  and  fix’d  it  on  the  ground ; 

Curious  to  hear  his  queen  the  silence  break. 

Amazed  she  sate,  and  impotent  to  speak ; 

O’er  all  the  man  her  eyes  she  rolls  in  vain. 

Now  hopes,  now  fears,  now  knows,  then  doubts  again. 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XXIII. 


375 


At  length  Telemachus:  “Oh,  who  can  find 
A  woman  like  Penelop4  unkind?  100 

Why  thus  in  silence  ?  why  with  winning  charms 
Thus  slow  to  flyLWith  rapture  to  his  arms? 

Stubborn  the  breast  that  with  no  transport  glows,  ^ 
When  twice  ten  years  are  pass’d  of  mighty  woes; 

To  softness  lost,  to  spousal  love  unknown. 

The  gods  have  form’d  that  rigid  heart  of  stone.” 

“Oh,  my  Telemachus!”  the  queen  rejoin’d, 

“Distracting  fears  confound  my  labouring  mind; 
Powerless  to  speak,  I  scarce  uplift  my  eyes. 

Nor  dare  to  question;  doubts  on  doubts  arise.  110 

Oh,  deign  he,  if  Ulysses,  to  remove 
These  boding  thoughts,  and  what  he  is,  to  prove  I” 
Pleased  with  her  virtuous  fears,  the  king  replies: 
“Indulge,  my  son,  the  cautions  of  the  wise; 

Time  shall  the  truth  to  sure  remembrance  bring; 

This  garb  of  poverty  belies  the  king; 

No  more. — This  day  our  deepest  care  requires. 

Cautious  to  act  what  thought  mature  inspires. 

If  one  man’s  blood,  though  mean,  distain  our  hands. 

The  homicide  retreats  to  foreign  lands;  120 

By  us,  in  heaps  th’  illustrious  peerage  falls, 

Th’  important  deed  our  whole  attention  calls.” 

“Be  that  thy  care,”  Telemachus  replies; 

“The  world  conspires  to  speak  Ulysses  wise; 

For  wisdom  all  is  thine !  lo,  I  obey. 

And  dauntless  follow  where  you  lead  the  way; 

Nor  shalt  thou  in  the  day  of  danger  find 
Thy  coward  son  degenerate  lag  behind.” 

“Then  instant  to  the  bath,”  the  monarch  cries; 

“Bid  the  gay  youth  and  sprightly  virgins  rise,  130 

Thence  all  descend  in  pomp  and  proud  array, 

And  bid  the  dome  resound  the  mirthful  lay; 

While  the  sweet  lyrist  airs  of  rapture  sings, 

And  forms  the  dance  responsive  to  the  strings. 

That  hence  th’  eluded  passengers  may  say, 

Lo!  the  queen  weds!  we  hear  the  spousal-lay! 


376 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XXIII. 


The  suitors’  death,  unknown,  ’till  we  remove 
Far  from  the  court,  and  act  inspired  by  Jove.”  i 
Thus  spoke  the  king;  th’  observant  train  obey,  ^ 

At  once  they  bathe,  and  dress  in  proud  array:  140 

The  lyrist  strikes  the  string;  gay  youths  advance, 

And  fair-zoned  damsels  form  the  sprightly  dance. 

The  voice,  attuned  to  instrumental  sounds, 

Ascends  the  roof,  the  vaulted  roof  rebounds: 

Not  unobserved:  the  Greeks  eluded  say, 

“Lo!  the  queen  weds,  we  hear  the  spousal-lay! 

Inconstant  1  to  admit  the  bridal-hour.” 

Thus  they. — But,  nobly  chaste,  she  weds  no  more.  « 
Meanwhile,  the  wearied  king  the  bath  ascends  I 
With  faithful  cares  Eurynom^  attends,  150 

O’er  every  limb  a  shower  of  fragrance  sheds;  ^ 

Then,  dress’d  in  pomp,  magnificent  he  treads. 

The  warrior-goddess  gives  his  frame  to  shine 
With  majesty  enlarged,  and  grace  divine. 

Back  from  his  brows  in  wavy  ringlets  fly 
His  thick  large  locks  of  hyacinthine  dye. 

As  by  some  artist  to  whom  Vulcan  gives 
His  heavenly  skill,  a  breathing  image  lives; 

By  Pallas  taught,  he  frames  the  wondrous  mould, 

And  the  pale  silver  glows  with  fusile  gold:  160 

So  Pallas  his  heroic  form  improves 

With  bloom  divine,  and  like  a  god  he  moves ! 

More  high  he  treads,  and  issuing  forth  in  state, 

Radiant  before  his  gazing  consort  sate. 

And,  “  Oh,  my  queen  1”  he  cries,  “  what  power  above 
Has  steel’d  that  heart,  averse  to  spousal  love? 

Canst  thou,  Penelop6 — when  Heaven  restores 
Thy  lost  Ulysses  to  his  native  shores — 

Canst  thou,  oh  cruel  1  unconcern’d  survey 

Thy  lost  Ulysses,  on  this  signal  day?  170 

Haste,  Euryclea,  and  despatchful  spread 

For  me,  and  me  alone,  th’  imperial  bed; 

My  weary  nature  craves  the  balm  of  rest: 

But  Heaven  with  adamant  has  arm’d  her  breast.” 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XXIII.  377 

‘‘Ah  no!”  she  cries,  “a  tender  heart  I  bear, 

A  foe  to  pride,  no  adamant  is  there ; 

And  now,  even  now  it  melts!  for  sure  I  see 
Once  more  Ulysses,  my  beloved,  in  thee  1 
Fix’d  in  my  soul,  as  when  he  sail’d  to  Troy, 

His  image  dwells:  then  haste  the  bed  of  joy!  180 

Haste,  from  the  bridal-bower  the  bed  translate. 

Framed  by  his  hand,  and  be  it  dress’d  in  state! 

Thus  speaks  the  queen,  still  dubious,  with  disguise; 
Touch’d  at  her  words,  the  king  with  warmth  replies: 

“Alas,  for  this!  what  mortal  strength  can  move 
Th’  enormous  burden;  who  but  Heaven  above? 

It  mocks  the  weak  attempts  of  human  hands ; 

But  the  whole  earth  must  move,  if  Heaven  commands. 
Then  hear  sure  evidence,  while  we  display 
Words  seal’d  with  sacred  truth,  and  truth  obey;  190 
This  hand  the  wonder  framed ;  an  olive  spread 
Full  in  the  court  its  ever-verdant  head. 

Vast  as  some  mighty  column’s  bulk,  on  high 
The  huge  trunk  rose,  and  heaved  into  the  sky; 

Around  the  tree  I  raised  a  nuptial  bower. 

And  roof’d  defensive  of  the  storm  and  shower; 

The  spacious  valve,  with  art  inwrought,  conjoins; 

And  the  fair  dome  with  polish’d  marble  shines. 

I  lopp’d  the  branchy  head;  aloft  in  twain 

Sever’d  the  bole,  and  smooth’d  the  shining  grain;  200 

Then  posts,  capacious  of  the  frame,  I  raise. 

And  bore  it,  regular,  from  space  to  space : 

Athwart  the  frame,  at  equal  distance  lie 
Thongs  of  tough  hides,  that  boast  a  purple  dye ; 

Then  polishing  the  whole,  the  finish’d  mould 
With  silver  shone,  with  elephant,  and  gold. 

But  if  o’erturn’d  by  rude,  ungovern’d  hands. 

Or  still  inviolate  the  olive  stands, 

’Tis  thine,  oh  queen,  to  say:  and  now  impart. 

If  fears  remain,  or  doubts  distract  thy  heart?”  210 

While  yet  he  speaks,  her  powers  of  life  decay, 

She  sickens,  trembles,  falls,  and  faints  away. 


378 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XXIII. 


At  length,  recovering,  to  his  arms  she  flew, 

And  strain’d  him  close,  as  to  his  breast  she  grew:  * 

The  tears  pour’d  down  amain;  and  “Oh!”  she  cries, 

“Let  not  against  thy  spouse  thine  anger  rise! 

Oh,  versed  in  every  turn  of  human  art, 

Forgive  the  weakness  of  a  woman’s  heart  1  ^ 

The  righteous  powers,  that  mortal  lots  dispose, 

Decree  us  to  sustain  a  length  of  woes,  220 

And  from  the  flower  of  life  the  bliss  deny 
To  bloom  together,  fade  away,  and  die. 

Oh,  let  me,  let  me  not  thine  anger  move. 

That  I  forbore,  thus,  thus  to  speak  my  love: 

Thus  in  fond  kisses,  while  the  transport  warms. 

Pour  out  my  soul,  and  die  within  thy  arms!  % 

I  dreaded  fraud.  Men,  faithless  men,  betray  H 
Our  easy  faith,  and  make  the  sex  their  prey: 

Against  the  fondness  of  my  heart  I  strove; 

’Twas  caution — oh,  my  lord! — not  want  of  love.  230 
Like  me  had  Helen  fear’d,  with  wanton  charms 
Ere  the  fair  mischief  set  the  world  in  arms ; 

Ere  Greece  rose  dreadful  in  th’  avenging  day; 

Thus  had  she  fear’d,  she  had  not  gone  astray. 

But  Heaven,  averse  to  Greece,  in  wrath  decreed 
That  she  should  wander,  and  that  Greece  should  bleed : 
Blind  to  the  ills  that  from  injustice  flow. 

She  colour’d  all  our  wretched  lives  with  wo. 

But  why  these  sorrows  when  my  lord  arrives? 

I  yield,  I  yield !  my  own  Ulysses  lives !  240 

The  secrets  of  the  bridal-bed  are  known 
To  thee,  to  me,  to  Actoris  alone, 

(My  father’s  present  in  the  spousal  hour. 

The  sole  attendant  on  our  genial  bower.) 

Since  what  no  eye  hath  seen,  thy  tongue  reveal’d. 

Hard  and  distrustful  as  I  am,  I  yield.” 

Touch’d  to  the  soul,  the  king  with  rapture  hears. 

Hangs  round  her  neck,  and  speaks  his  joy  in  tears. 

As,  to  the  shipwreck’d  mariner,  the  shores 

Delightful  rise,  when  angry  Neptune  roars;  250 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XXIII. 


379 


Then,  when  the  surge  in  thunder  mounts  the  sky, 
And  gulf’d  in  crowds  at  once  the  sailors  die; 

If  one  more  happy,  while  the  tempest  raves. 

Outlives  the  tumult  of  conflicting  waves. 

All  pale,  with  ooze  deform’d,  he  views  the  strand. 
And,  plunging  forth,  with  transport  grasps  the  land : 
The  ravish’d  queen  with  equal  rapture  glows, 

Clasps  her  loved  lord,  and  to  his  bosom  grows. 

Nor  had  they  ended  till  the  morning  ray, 

But  Pallas  backward  held  the  rising  day, 

The  wheels  of  night  retarding,  to  detain 
The  gay  Aurora  in  the  wavy  main ; 

Whose  flaming  steeds,  emerging  through  the  night. 
Beam  o’er  the  eastern  hills  with  streaming  light. 

At  length  Ulysses  with  a  sigh  replies : 

“Yet  Fate,  yet  cruel  Fate  repose  denies; 

A  labour  long,  and  hard,  remains  behind; 

By  Heaven  above,  by  hell  beneath  enjoin  d ; 

For,  to  Tiresias  through  th’  eternal  gates 
Of  hell  I  trode,  to  learn  my  future  fates. 

But  end  we  here :  the  night  demands  repose. 

Be  deck’d  the  couch !  and  peace  a  while,  my  woes !” 

To  whom  the  queen:  “Thy  word  we  shall  obey. 
And  deck  the  couch;  far  hence  be  woes  away; 


Since  the  just  gods,  who  tread  the  starry  plains. 
Restore  thee  safe,  since  my  Ulysses  reigns. 

But  what  those  perils  Heaven  decrees,  impart; 
Knowledge  may  grieve,  but  fear  distracts  the  heart.” 

To  this  the  king:  “Ah,  why  must  I  disclose 
A  dreadful  story  of  approaching  woes? 

Why  in  this  hour  of  transport  wound  thy  ears, 

^VV^hen  thou  must  learn  what  I  must  speak  with  tears? 
Heaven,  by  the  Theban  ghost,  thy  spouse  decrees. 
Torn  from  thy  arms,  to  sail  a  length  of  seas ; 

From  realm  to  realm,  a  nation  to  explore. 

Who  ne’er  knew  salt,  or  heard  the  billows  roar. 

Nor  saw  gay  vessel  stem  the  surgy  plain, 

A  painted  wonder,  flying  on  the  main; 


380  the  odyssey,  BOOK  XXIII. 

An  oar  my  hand  must  bear  ;  a  shepherd  eyes 
The  unknown  instrument  with  strange  surprise,  290 
And  calls  a  corn-van:  this  upon  the  plain 
I  fix,  and  hail  the  monarch  of  the  main ; 

Then  bathe  his  altars  with  the  mingled  gore 
Of  victims  vow’d — a  ram,  a  bull,  a  boar; 

Thence  swift  resailing  to  my  native,  shores, 

Due  victims  slay  to  all  th’  etherial  powers. 

Then  Heaven  decrees  in  peace  to  end  my  days. 

And  steal  myself  from  life  by  slow  decays ; 

Unknown  to  pain,  in  age  resign  my  breath, 

When  late  stern  Neptune  points  the  shaft  of  death;  300 
To.  the  dark  grave  retiring  as  to  rest. 

My  people  blessing,  by  my  people  bless’d. — 

Such  future  scenes  th’  all-righteous  powers  display 
By  their  dread  seer,*  and  such  my  future  day.” 

To  whom  thus  firm  of  soul :  “  If  ripe  for  death. 

And  full  of  days,  thou  gently  yield  thy  breath ; 

While  Heaven  a  kind  release  from  ills  foreshows. 
Triumph,  thou  happy  victor  of  thy  woes !” 

But  Euryclea,  with  despatchful  care. 

And  sage  Eurynom^,  the  couch  prepare:  310 

Instant  they  bid  the  blazing  torch  display 
Around  the  dome  an  artificial  day: 

Then  to  repose  her  steps  the  matron  bends. 

And  to  the  queen  Eurynome  descends ! 

A  torch  she  bears,  to  light  with  guiding  fires 
The  royal  pair;  she  guides  them,  and  retires; 

Then  instant  his  fair  spouse  Ulysses  led 
To  the  chaste  love-rites  of  the  nuptial-bed. 

And  now  the  blooming  youths  and  sprightly  fair 
Cease  the  gay  dance,  and  to  their  rest  repair ;  320 

But  in  discourse  the  king  and  consort  lay. 

While  the  soft  hours  stole  unperceived  away: 

Intent  he  hears  Penelop6  disclose 
A  mournful  story  of  domestic  woes, 


*  Tiresias. 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XXIII. 


381 


330 


340 


His  servants’  insults,  his  invaded  bed, 

How  his  whole  flocks  and  herds  exhausted  bled, 

His  generous  wines  dishonour’d  shed  in  vain, 

And  the  wild  riots  of  the  suitor-train. 

The  king  alternate  a  dire  tale  relates. 

Of  wars,  of  triumphs,  and  disastrous  fates ; 

All  he  unfolds:  his  listening  spouse  turns  pale 
With  pleasing  horror  at  the  dreadful  tale: 

Sleepless  devours  each  word ;  and  hears  how  slain 
Cicons  on  Cicons  swell  th’  ensanguined  plain ; 

How  to  the  land  of  Lote  unbless’d  he  sails; 

And  images  the  rills  and  flowery  vales ; 

How,  dash’d  like  dogs,  his  friends  the  Cyclops  tore, 

(Not  unrevenged,)  and  quaff’d  the  spouting  gore; 

How,  the  loud  storms  in  prison  bound,  he  sails 
From  friendly  iEolus  with  prosperous  gales; 

Yet  fate  withstands!  a  sudden  tempest  roars. 

And  whirls  him  groaning  from  his  native  shores: 

How  on  the  barbarous  Lsestrygonian  coast. 

By  savage  hands  his  fleet  and  friends  he  lost; 

How  scarce  himself  survived:  he  paints  the  bower. 

The  spells  of  Circ^,  and  her  magic  power; 

His  dreadful  journey  to  the  realms  beneath. 

To  seek  Tiresias  in  the  vales  of  death: 

How  in  the  doleful  mansions  he  survey’d 
His  royal  mother,  pale  Anticlea’s  shade ; 

And  friends  in  battle  slain,  heroic  ghosts  I 
Then  how,  unharm’d,  he  pass’d  the  Siren  coasts. 

The  justling  rocks  where  fierce  Charybdis  raves. 

And  howling  Scylla  whirls  her  thunderous  waves. 

The  cave  of  death!  How  his  companions  slay 
The  oxen  sacred  to  the  god  of  day. 

Till  Jove  in  wrath  the  rattling  tempest  guides. 

And  whelms  th’  offenders  in  the  roaring  tides : 

How,  struggling  through  the  surge,  he  reach’d  the  shores 
Of  fair  Ogygia,  and  Calypso’s  bowers ;  360 

Where  the  gay  blooming  nymph  constrain’d  his  stay. 
With  sweet,  reluctant,  amorous  delay ; 


350 


382 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XXIII. 


And  promised — vainly  promised — ^to  bestow 
Immortal  life,  exempt  from  age  and  wo; 

How,  saved  from  storms,  Phseacia’s  coast  he  trod. 

By  great  Alcinoiis  honour’d  as  a  god, 

Who  gave  him  last  his  country  to  behold, 

With  change  of  raiment,  brass,  and  heaps  of  gold. 

He  ended,  sinking  into  sleep,  and  shares 
A  sweet  forgetfulness  of  all  his  cares. 

Soon  as  soft  slumber  eased  the  toils  of  day, 

Minerva  rushes  through  th’  aerial  way. 

And  bids  Aurora  with  her  golden  wheels 
Flame  from  the  ocean  o’er  the  eastern  hills: 

Up  rose  Ulysses  from  the  genial  bed. 

And  thus,  with  thought  mature,  the  monarch  said: 

“My  queen,  my  consort!  through  a  length  of  years 
We  drank  the  cup  of  sorrow,  mix’d  with  tears; 

Thou,  for  thy  lord:  while  me  th’  immortal  powers 
Detain’d  reluctant  from  my  native  shores. 

Now,  bless’d  again  by  Heaven,  the  queen  display. 
And  rule  our  palace  with  an  equal  sway. 

Be  it  my  care,  by  loans,  or  martial  toils. 

To  throng  my  empty  folds  with  gifts  or  spoils. 

But  now  I  haste  to  bless  Laertes’  eyes 
With  sight  of  his  Ulysses  ere  he  dies: 

The  good  old  man,  to  wasting  woes  a  prey. 

Weeps  a  sad  life  in  solitude  away. 

But  hear,  though  wise  I  This  morning  shall  unfold 
The  deathful  scene;  on  heroes  heroes  roll’d. 

Thou  with  thy  maids  within  the  palace  stay, 

From  all  the  scene  of  tumult  far  away  1” 

He  spoke;  and,  sheath’d  in  arms,  incessant  flies 
To  wake  his  son,  and  bid  his  friends  arise. 

“To  arms!”  aloud  he  cries:  his  friends  obey, 

With  glittering  arms  their  manly  limbs  array. 

And  pass  the  city-gate;  Ulysses  leads  the  way. 

Now  flames  the  rosy  dawn,  but  Pallas  shrouds 
The  latent  warriors  in  a  veil  of  clouds. 


370 


380 


390 


BOOK  XXIV. 


Ulysses  visits  his  Father;  Victory  over  Eupeithes. 

Argument. — The  souls  of  the  suitors  are  conducted  by  Mercury  to  the  infer¬ 
nal  shades.  Ulysses  in  the  country  goes  to  the  retirement  of  his  father 
Laertes ;  he  finds  him  busied  in  the  g-arden  all  alone :  the  manner  of  his 
discovery  to  him  is  beautifully  described.  They  return  tog’ether  to  bis 
lodgce,  and  the  king"  is  acknowledged  by  Dolius  and  the  servants.  The 
IthacensianSjled  by  Eupeithes,  the  father  of  Antinoiis,  rise  against  Ulysses, 
who  gives  them  battle,  in  which  Eupeithes  is  killed  by  Laertes ;  and  the 
goddess  Pallas  makes  a  lasting  peace  between  Ulysses  and  his  subjects, 
which  concludes  the  Odyssey. 

Cyllenius  now  to  Pluto’s  dreary  reign 
Conveys  the  dead,  a  lamentable  train ! 

The  golden  wand,  that  causes  sleep  to  fly. 

Or  in  soft  slumber  seals  the  wakeful  eye. 

That  drives  the  ghosts  to  realms  of  night  or  day, 

Points  out  the  long,  uncomfortable  way. 

Trembling  the  spectres  glide,  and  plaintive  vent 
Thin,  hollow  screams,  along  the  deep  descent: 

As  in  the  cavern  of  some  rifted  den. 

Where  flock  nocturnal  bats,  and  birds  obscene;  10 

Cluster’d  they  hang,  till  at  some  sudden  shock 
They  move,  and  murmurs  run  through  all  the  rock: 

So  cowering  fled  the  sable  heaps  of  ghosts. 

And  such  a  scream  fill’d  all  the  dismal  coasts. 

And  now  they  reach  the  earth’s  remotest  ends. 

And  now  the  gates  where  evening  Sol  descends. 

And  Leucas’  rocks,  and  Ocean’s  utmost  streams. 

And  now  pervade  the  dusky  land  of  dreams. 

And  rest  at  last,  where  souls  unbodied  dwell 
In  ever-flowering  meads  of  Asphodel.  20 

The  empty  forms  of  men  inhabit  there. 

Impassive  semblance,  images  of  air ! 


384 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XXIV. 


Nought  else  are  all  that  shined  on  earth  before; 

Ajax  and  great  Achilles  are  no  more ! 

Yet,  still  a  master-ghost,  the  rest  he  awed. 

The  rest  adored  him,  towering  as  he  trod; 

Still  at  his  side  is  Nestor’s  son  survey’d. 

And  loved  Patroclus  still  attends  his  shade. 

New  as  they  were  to  that  infernal  shore, 

The  suitors  stopp’d,  and  gazed  the  hero  o’er.  30 

When,  moving  slow,  the  regal  form  they  view’d 
Of  great  Atrides ;  him  in  pomp  pursued. 

And  solemn  sadness,  through  the  gloom  of  hell. 

The  train  of  those  who  by  iEgysthus  fell. 

“Oh,  mighty  chief!”  Pelides  thus  began, 

“Honour’d  by  Jove  above  the  lot  of  man! — 

King  of  a  hundred  kings !  to  whom  resign’d 
The  strongest,  bravest,  greatest  of  mankind — 

Com’st  thou  the  first,  to  view  this  dreary  state? 

And  was  the  noblest,  the  first  mark  of  Fate? 

Condemn’d  to  pay  the  great  arrear  so  soon. 

The  lot  which  all  lament,  and  none  can  shun ! 

Oh !  better  hadst  thou  sunk  in  Trojan  ground. 

With  all  thy  full-blown  honours  cover’d  round ! 

Then  grateful  Greece  with  streaming  eyes  might  raise 
Historic  marbles  to  record  thy  praise: 

Thy  praise  eternal  on  the  faithful  stone. 

Had  with  transmissive  glories  graced  thy  son. 

But  heavier  fates  were  destined  to  attend. 

What  man  is  happy,  till  he  knows  his  end?”  50 

“Oh,  son  of  Peleus!  greater  than  mankind!” 

Thus  Agamemnon’s  kingly  shade  rejoin’d, 

“  Thrice  happy  thou,  to  press  the  martial  plain 
Midst  heaps  of  heroes  in  thy  quarrel  slain: 

In  clouds  of  smoke,  raised  by  the  noble  fray. 

Great  and  terrific  even  in  death  you  lay. 

And  deluges  of  blood  flow’d  round  you  every  way. 

Nor  ceased  the  strife  till  Jove  himself  opposed. 

And  all  in  tempests  the  dire  evening  closed. 

Then  to  the  fleet  we  bore  thy  honour’d  load. 

And  decent  on  the  funeral-bed  bestow’d: 


^  t  t  ' 

40 


GO 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XXIV.  385 

Then  unguents  sweet  and  tepid  streams  we  shed; 

Tears  flow’d  from  every  eye,  and  o’er  the  dead 
Each  clipp’d  the  curling  honours  of  his  head. 

Struck  at  the  news,  thy  azure  mother  came ; 

The  sea-green  sisters  waited  on  the  dame: 

A  voice  of  loud  lament  through  all  the  main 
Was  heard;  and  terror  seized  the  Grecian  train:. 

Back  to  their  ships  the  frighted  host  had  fled; 

But  Nestor  spoke,  they  listen’d,  and  obey’d:  70 

(From  old  experience  Nestor’s  counsel  springs, 

And  long  vicissitudes  of  human  things.) 

*  Forbear  your  flight :  fair  Thetis  from  the  main 
To  mourn  Achilles  leads  her  azure  train.’ 

Around  thee  stand  the  daughters  of  the  deep. 

Robe  thee  in  heavenly  vests,  and  round  thee  weep ; 
Round  thee,  the  Muses,  with  alternate  strain. 

In  ever- consecrating  verse,  complain. 

Each  warlike  Greek  the  moving  music  hears. 

And  iron-hearted  heroes  melt  in  tears.  80 

Till  seventeen  nights  and  seventeen  days  return’d. 

All  that  was  mortal  or  immortal  mourn’d. 

To  flames  we  gave  thee,  the  succeeding  day, 

And  fatted  sheep,  and  sable  oxen  slay; 

With  oils  and  honey  blaze  th’  augmented  fires. 

And,  like  a  god  adorn’d,  thy  earthly  part  expires. 
Unnumber’d  warriors  round  the  burning  pile 
Urge  the  fleet  courser’s  or  the  racer’s  toil; 

Thick  clouds  of  dust  o’er  all  the  circle  rise. 

And  the  mix’d  clamour  thunders  in  the  skies.  .  90 

Soon  as  absorb’d  in  all-embracing  flame 
Sunk  what  was  mortal  of  thy  mighty  name. 

We  then  collect  thy  snowy  bones,  and  place 
With  wines  and  unguents  in  a  golden  vase ; 

(The  vase  to  ^Thetis,  Bacchus  gave  of  old. 

And  Vulcan’s  art  enrich’d  the  sculptured  gold:) 

There  we  thy  relics,  great  Achilles !  blend 
With  dear  Patroclus,  thy  departed  friend: 

In  the  same  urn  a  separate  space  contains 
Thy  next  beloved,  Antilochus’  remains. 

17  Z 


100 


386 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XXIV. 


Now  all  the  sons  of  warlike  Greece  surround 
Thy  destined  tomb,  and  cast  a  mighty  mound: 

High  on  the  shore  the  growing  hill  we  raise, 

That  wide  th’  extended  Hellespont  surveys: 

Where  all  from  age  to  age,  who  pass  the  coast, 

May  point  Achilles’  tomb,  and  hail  the  mighty  ghost. 
Thetis  herself  to  all  our  peers  proclaims 
Heroic  prizes  and  exequial  games ; 

The  gods  assented ;  and  around  thee  lay 

Rich  spoils  and  gifts  that  blazed  against  the  day.  110 

Oft  have  I  seen  with  solemn  funeral  games 

Heroes  and  kings  committed  to  the  flames ; 

But  strength  of  youth,  or  valour  of  the  brave. 

With  nobler  contest  ne’er  renown’d  a  grave. 

Such  were  the  games  by  azure  Thetis  given. 

And  such  thy  honours — oh,  beloved  of  heaven! 

Dear  to  mankind  thy  fame  survives,  nor  fades 
Its  bloom  eternal  in  the  Stygian  shades. 

But  what  to  me  avail  my  honours  gone. 

Successful  toils,  and  battles  bravely  won?  120 

Doom’d  by  stern  Jove  at  home  to  end  my  life, 

By  cursed  iEgysthus,  and  a  faithless  wife  I” 

Thus  they;  while  Hermes  o’er  the  dreary  plain 
Led  the  sad  numbers  by  Ulysses  slain. 

On  each  majestic  form  they  cast  a  view. 

And  timorous  pass’d,  and  awfully  withdrew. 

But  Agamemnon,  through  the  gloomy  shade. 

His  ancient  host  Amphimedon  survey’d: 

“Son  of  Melanthius!”  he  began,  “oh,  say! 

What  cause  compel’d  so  many,  and  so  gay,  130 

To  tread  the  downward,  melancholy  way? 

Say,  could  one  city  yield  a  troop  so  fair? 

Were  all  these  partners  of  one  native  air? 

Or 'did  the  rage  of  stormy  Neptune  sweep 
Your  lives  at  once,  and  whelm  beneath  the  deep? 

Did  nightly  thieves,  or  pirates’  cruel  bands. 

Drench  with  your  blood  your  pillaged  country’s  sands? 
Or,  well  defending  some  beleaguer’d  wall, 

Say,  for  the  public  did  ye  greatly  fall? 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XXIV. 


387 


Inform  thy  guest:  for  such  I  was  of  yore,  140 

When  our  triumphant  navies  touch’d  your  shore; 

Forced  a  long  month  the  wintry  seas  to  bear, 

To  move  the  great  Ulysses  to  the  war.” 

“Oh,  king  of  nien!  I  faithful  shall  relate,” 

Replied  Amphimedon,  “our  hapless  fate. 

Ulysses  absent,  our  ambitious  aim 
With  rival  loves  pursued  his  royal  dame ; 

Her  coy  reserve,  and  prudence  mix’d  with  pride. 

Our  common  suit  nor  granted,  nor  denied ; 

But  close  with  inward  hate  our  deaths  design’d;  150 
Versed  in  all  arts  of  wily  womankind. 

Her  hand,  laborious,  in  delusion  spread 
A  spacious  loom,  and  mix’d  the  various  thread. 

‘Ye  peers,’  she  cried,  ‘who  press  to  gain  my  heart. 
Where  dead  Ulysses  claims  no  more  a  part. 

Yet  a  short  space  your  rival  suit  suspend, 

Till  this  funereal- web  my  labours  end : 

Cease,  till  to  good  Laertes  I  bequeath 
A  task  of  grief,  his  ornaments  of  death: 

Lest,  when  the  Fates  his  royal  ashes  claim. 

The  Grecian  matrons  taint  my  spotless  fame: 

Should  he,  long  honour’d  with  supreme  command. 

Want  the  last  duties  of  a  daughter’s  hand.’ — 

The  fiction  pleased,  our  generous  train  complies. 

Nor  fraud  mistrusts  in  virtue’s  fair  disguise. 

The  work  she  plied,  but,  studious  of  delay. 

Each  following  night  reversed  the  toils  of  day. 

Unheard,  unseen,  three  years  her  arts  prevail ; 

The  fourth  her  maid  reveal’d  th’  amazing  tale. 

And  show’d,  as  unperceived  we  took  our  stand. 

The  backward  labours  of  her  faithless  hand. 

Forced,  she  completes  it;  and  before  us  lay 
The  mingled  web,  whose  gold  and  silver  ray 
Display’d  the  radiance  of  the  night  and  day. 

Just  as  she  finish’d  her  illustrious  toil. 

Ill  fortune  led  Ulysses  to  our  isle. 

Far  in  a  lonely  nook,  beside  the  sea. 

At  an  old  swine-herd’s  rural  lodge  he  lay: 


160 


170 


388 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XXIV. 


Thither  his  son  from  sandy  Pyle  repairs, 

And  speedy  lands,  and  secretly  confers.  180 

They  plan  our  future  ruin,  and  resort 
Confederate  to  the  city  and  the  court. 

First  came  the  son,  the  father  next  succeeds. 

Clad  like  a  beggar,  whom  Eumseus  leads ; 

Propp’d  on  a  staff,  deform’d  with  age  and  care. 

And  hung  with  rags  that  flutter’d  in  the  air. 

Who  could  Ulysses  in  that  form  behold? 

Scorn’d  by  the  young,  forgotten  by  the  old. 

Ill-used  by  all !  to  every  wrong  resign’d, 

Patient  he  suffer’d  with  a  constant  mind.  190 

But  when,  arising  in  his  wrath  t’  obey 
The  will  of  Jove,  he  gave  the  vengeance  way;  , 

The  scatter’d  arms  that  hung  around  the  dome.  ^  . 
Careful  he  treasured  in  a  private  room: 

Then  to  her  suitors  bade  his  queen  propose 
The  archer’s  strife,  the  source  of  future  woes,  ? 

An  omen  of  our  death !  In  vain  we  drew  ^  ■ 

The  twanging  string,  and  tried  the  stubborn  yew: 

To  none  it  yields  but  great  Ulysses’  hands ; 

In  vain  we  threat;  Telemachus  commands;  200 

The  bow  he  snatch’d,  and  in  an  instant  bent; 

Through  every  ring  the  victor  arrow  went. 

Fierce  on  the  threshold  then  in  arms  he  stood , 

Pour’d  forth  the  darts  that  thirsted  for  our  blood. 

And  frown’d  before  us,  dreadful  as  a  god ! 

First  bleeds  Antinoiis ;  thick  the  shafts  resound. 

And  heaps  on  heaps  the  wretches  strew  the  ground: 

This  way,  and  that,  we  turn — we  fly,  we  fall ; 

Some  god  assisted,  and  unmanned  us  all: 

Ignoble  cries  precede  the  dying  groans;  *  210 

And  batter’d  brains  and  blood  besmear  the  stones. 

Thus,  great  Atrides — thus  Ulysses  drove 

The  shades  thou  seest,  from  yon  fair  realms  above: 

Our  mangled  bodies,  now  deform’d  with  gore. 

Cold  and  neglected,  spread  the  marble  floor: 

No  friend  to  bathe  our  wounds!  or  tears  to  shed 
O’er  the  pale  corse!  the  honours  of  the  dead.” 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XXIV. 


389 


“Oh,  bless’d  Ulysses!”  thus  the  king  express’d 
His  sudden  rapture,  “in  thy  consort  bless’d! 

Not  more  thy  wisdom  than  her  virtue  shined; 

Not  more  thy  patience  than  her  constant  mind. 
Icarius’  daughter,  glory  of  the  past. 

And  model  to  the  future  age,  shall  last: 

The  gods,  to  honour  her  fair  fame,  shall  raise 
(Their  great  reward)  a  poet  in  her  praise. 

Not  such,  oh  Tyndarus !  thy  daughter’s  deed. 

By  whose  dire  hand  her  king  and  husband  bled; 
Her  shall  the  Muse  to  infamy  prolong. 

Example  dread,  and  theme  of  tragic  song ! 

The  general  sex  shall  suffer  in  her  shame. 

And  ev’n  the  best  that  bears  a  woman’s  name.” 

Thus,  in  the  regions  of  eternal  shade, 

Conferr’d  the  mournful  phantoms  of  the  dead ; 
While,  from  the  town,  Ulysses  and  his  band 
Pass’d  to  Laertes’  cultivated  land. 

The  ground  himself  had  purchased  with  his  pain, 
And  labour  made  the  rugged  soil  a  plain. 

There  stood  his  mansion  of  the  rural  sort. 

With  useful  buildings  round  the  lowly  court; 
Where  the  few  servants  that  divide  his  care 


220 


230 


240 


Took  their  laborious  rest,  and  homely  fare; 

And  one  Sicilian  matron,  old  and  sage, 

With  constant  duty  tends  his  drooping  age. 

Here  now  arriving,  to  his  rustic  band 
And  martial  son,  Ulysses  gave  command: 

“  Enter  the  house,  and  of  the  bristly  swine 
Select  the  largest  to  the  powers  divine. 

Alone,  and  unattended,  let  me  try 
If  yet  I  share  the  old  man’s  memory: 

If  those  dim  eyes  can  yet  Ulysses  know,  2 

(Their  light  and  dearest  object  long  ago); 

Now  changed  with  time,  with  absence  and  with  wo. 
Then  to  his  train  he  gives  his  spear  and  shield; 

The  house  they  enter;  and  he  seeks  the  field. 

Through  rows  of  shade,  with  various  fruitage  crown’d, 
The  labour’d  scenes  of  richest  verdure  I'ound. 


390 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XXIV. 


Nor  aged  Dolius,  nor  his  sons  were  there, 

Nor  servants,  absent  on  another  care; 

To  search  the  woods  for  sets  of  flowery  thorn. 

Their  orchard  bounds  to  strengthen  and  adorn.  260 

But  all  alone  the  hoary  king  he  found ; 

His  habit  coarse,  but  warmly  wrapp’d  around ; 

His  head,  that  bow’d  with  many  a  pensive  care, 

Fenced  with  a  double  cap  of  goatskin  hair: 

His  buskins  old,  in  former  service  torn. 

But  well  repair’d;  and  gloves  against  the  thorn. 

In  this  array  the  kingly  gardener  stood. 

And  clear’d  a  plant,  encumber’d  with  its  wood. 

Beneath  a  neighbouring  tree,  the  chief  divine 
Gazed  o’er  his  sire,  retracing  every  line. 

The  ruins  of  himself!  now  worn  away 
With  age,  yet  still  majestic  in  decay  1 
Sudden  his  eyes  released  their  watery  store; 

The  much-enduring  man  could  bear  no  more. 

Doubtful  he  stood,  if  instant  to  embrace 
His  aged  limbs,  to  kiss  his  reverend  face. 

With  eager  transport  to  disclose  the  whole. 

And  pour  at  once  the  torrent  of  his  soul — 

Not  so:  his  judgment  takes  the  winding  way 
Of  question  distant,  and  of  soft  essay: 

More  gentle  methods  on  weak  age  employs: 

And  moves  the  sorrows  to  enhance  the  joys. 

Then,  to  his  sire,  with  beating  heart  he  moves. 

And  with  a  tender  pleasantry  reproves : 

Who,  digging  round  the  plant,  still  hangs  his  head. 

Nor  aught  remits  the  work,  while  thus  he  said: 

“  Great  is  thy  skill,  oh  father  I  great  thy  toil ; 

Thy  careful  hand  is  stamp’d  on  all  the  soil ; 

Thy  squadron’d  vineyards  well  thy  art  declare. 

The  olive  green,  blue  fig,  and  pendent  pear;  290 

And  not  one  empty  spot  escapes  thy  care. 

On  every  plant  and  tree  thy  cares  are  shown, 

Nothing  neglected,  but  thyself  alone. 


270 

1 


280 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XXIV. 


391 


Forgive  me,  father,  if  this  fault  I  blame; 

Age  so  advanced  may  some  indulgence  claim. 
Not  for  thy  sloth  I  deem  thy  lord  unkind 
Nor  speaks  thy  form  a  mean  or  servile  mind; 

I  read  a  monarch  in  that  princely  air, 

The  same  thy  aspect,  if  the  same  thy  care ; 

Soft  sleep,  fair  garments,  and  the  joys  of  wine. 
These  are  the  rights  of  age,  and  should  be  thine. 
Who  then  thy  master,' say?  and  whose  the  land 
So  dress’d  and  managed  by  thy  skilful  hand? 

But  chief,  oh,  tell  me!  (what  I  question  most) 

Is  this  the  far-famed  Ithacensian  coast? 


For  so  reported  the  first  man  I  view’d, 

(Some  surly  islander,  of  manners  rude,) 

Nor  further  conference  vouchsafed  to  stay; 

Heedless  he  whistled,  and  pursued  his  way. 

But  thou,  whom  years  have  taught  to  understand,  310 
Humanely  hear,  and  answer  my  demand. 

A  friend  I  seek,  a  wise  one  and  a  brave . 

Say,  lives  he  yet,  or  moulders  in  the  grave? 

Time  was  (my  fortunes  then  were  at  the  best) 

When  at  my  house  I  lodged  this  foreign  guest; 

He  said,  from  Ithaca’s  fair  isle  he  came, 

And  old  Laertes  was  his  father’s  name. 

To  him,  whatever  to  a  guest  is  owed 
I  paid,  and  hospitable  gifts  bestow’d: 

To  him  seven  talents  of  pure  ore  I  told,  ^  320 

Twelve  cloaks,  twelve  vests,  twelve  tunics  stiff  with  gold ; 
A  bowl,  that  rich  with  polish’d  silver  flames. 

And,  skill’d  in  female  works,  four  lovely  dames.” 

At  this  the  father,  with  a  father’s  fears 
(His  venerable  eyes  bedimm’d  with  tears): 

“This  is  the  land;  but,  ah!  thy  gifts  are  lost. 


For  godless  men,  and  rude,  possess  the  coast: 
Sunk  is  the  glory  of  this  once-famed  shore ! 
Thy  ancient  friend,  oh  stranger,  is  no  more! 


f 


392  the  odyssey,  BOOK  XXIV, 

Full  recompense  thy  bounty  else  had  borne; 

For  every  good  man  yields  a  just  return: 

So  civil  rights  demand;  and  who  begins 
The  track  of  friendship,  not  pursuing,  sins. 

But  tell  me,  stranger,  be  the  truth  confess’d, 

What  years  have  circled  since  thou  saw’st  that  guest  ? 
That  hapless  guest,  alas!  for  ever  gone! 

Wretch  that  he  was!  and  that  I  am!  my  son ! 

If  ever  man  to  misery  was  born, 

’Twas  his  to  suffer,  and  ’tis  mine  to  mourn! 

Far  from  his  friends,  and  from  his  native  reign,  340 

He  lies  a  prey  to  monsters  of  the  main; 

Or  savage  beasts  his  mangled  relics  tear. 

Or  screaming  vultures  scatter  through  the  air:  .. 

Nor  could  his  mother  funeral  unguents  shed; 

Nor  wail’d  his  father  o’er  th’  untimely  dead; 

Nor  his  sad  consort,  on  the  mournful  bier. 

Seal’d  his  cold  eyes,  or  dropp’d  a  tender  tear ! 

But,  tell  me  who  thou  art?  and  what  thy  race? 

Thy  town,  thy  parents,  and  thy  native  place  ?^ 

Or,  if  a  merchant  in  pursuit  of  gain,  350 

What  port  received  thy  vessel  from  the  main? 

Or  com’st  thou  single,  or  attend  thy  train?” 

Then  thus  the  son:  “From  Alybas  I  came. 

My  palace  there :  Eperitus  my  name. 

Not  vulgar  born;  from  Aphidas,  the  king 
Of  Polyphemon’s  royal  line,  I  spring. 

Some  adverse  demon  from  Sicania  bore 

Our  wandering  course,  and  drove  us  on  your  shore; 

Far  from  the  town,  an  unfrequented  bay 
Relieved  our  wearied  vessel  from  the  sea.  3G0 

Five  years  have  circled  since  these  eyes  pursued 
Ulysses  parting  through  the  sable  flood ; 

Prosperous  he  sail’d,  with  dexter  auguries. 

And  all  the  wing’d  good  omens  of  the  skies ; 

Well  hoped  we  then  to  meet  on  this  fair  shore. 

Whom  Heaven,  alas !  decreed  to  meet  no  more.” 


I 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XXIV. 


393 


Quick  through  the  father’s  heart  these  accents  ran; 
Grief  seized  at  once,  and  wrapp’d  up  all  the  man: 
Deep  from  his  soul  he  sigh’d,  and  sorrowing  spread 
A  cloud  of  ashes 'on  his  hoary  head. 

Trembling  with  agonies  of  strong  delight 

Stood  the  great  son,  heart-wounded  with  the  sight; 

He  ran,  he  seized  him  with  a  strict  embiace. 

With  thousand  kisses  wander’d  o’er  his  face: 

“  I,  I  am  he ;  oh  father,  rise !  behold 
Thy  son,  with  twenty  winters  now  grown  old; 

Thy  son,  so  long  desired,  so  long  detain  d. 

Restored,  and  breathing  in  his  native  land;^ 

These  floods  of  sorrow,  oh,  my  sire,  restrain! 

The  vengeance  is  complete;  the  suitor-train,  ^  ^ 
Stretch’d  in  our  palace,  by  these  hands  lie  slain.” 

Amazed  Laertes:  “Give  some  certain  sign 
(If  such  thou  art)  to  manifest  thee  mine.” 

“Lo,  here  the  wound,”'  he  cries,  “received  of  yore. 
The  scar  indented  by  the  tusky  boar. 

When,  by  thyself  and  by  Anticlea  sent, 

To  old-  Autolychus’s  realms  I  went. 

Yet  by  another  sign  thy  offspring  know; 

The  several  trees  you  gave  me  long  ago. 

While,  yet  a  child,  these  fields  I  loved  to  trace. 

And  trod  thy  footsteps  with  unequal  pace; 

To  every  plant  in  order  as  we  came. 

Well  pleased,  you  told  its  nature  and  its  name ; 
Whate’er  my  childish  fancy  ask’d,  bestow’d; 

Twelve  pear-trees,  bowing  with  their  pendent  load. 
And  ten,  that  red  with  blushing  apples  glow’d; 

Full  fifty  purple  figs;  and  many  a  row 
Of  various  vines  that  then  began  to  blow. 

A  future  vintage  1  when  the  Hours  produce 
Their  latent  buds,  and  Sol  exalts  the  juice.” 

Smit  with  the  signs  which  all  his  doubts  explain, 
His  heart  within  him  melts ;  his  knees  sustain 


370 


380 


390 


400 


17# 


394 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XXIV. 


Their  feeble  weight  no  more:  his  arms  alone 
Support  him,  round  the  loved  Ulysses  thrown: 

He  faints,  he  sinks,  with  mighty  joys  oppress’d : 
Ulysses  clasps  him  to  his  eager  breast. 

Soon  as  returning  life  regains  its  seat. 

And  his  breath  lengthens,  and  his  pulses  beat: 

“Yes,  I  believe,”  he  cries,  “almighty  Jove! 
Heaven  rules  as  yet,  and  gods  there  are  above. 

’Tis  so:  the  suitors  for  their  wrongs  have  paid! 

But  what  shall  guard  us,  if  the  town  invade? 

If,  while  the  news  through  every  city  flies. 

All  Ithaca  and  Cephallenia  rise?” 

To  this  Ulysses:  “As  the  gods  shall  please 
Be  all  the  rest;  and  set  thy  soul  at  ease. 

Haste  to  the  cottage  by  this  orchard’s  side, 

And  take  the  banquet  which  our  cares  provide : 
There  wait  thy  faithful  band  of  rural  friends. 

And  there  the  young  Telemachus  attends.” 

Thus  having  said,  they  traced  the  garden  o’er. 
And  stooping  enter’d  at  a  lowly  door. 

The  swains  and  young  Telemachus  they  found. 

The  victim  portion’d,  and  the  goblet  crown’d. 

The  hoary  king,  his  old  Sicilian  maid 
Perfumed  and  wash’d,  and  gorgeously  array’d. 
Pallas  attending,  gives  his  frame  to  shine 
With  awful  port,  and  majesty  divine ; 

His  gazing  son  admires  the  godlike  grace 
And  air  celestial  dawning  o’er  his  face. 

“What  god,”  he  cried,  “my  father’s  form  improves? 
How  high  he  treads,  and  how  enlarged  he  moves !” 

“Oh!  would  to  all  the  deathless  powers  on  high, 
Pallas  and  Jove,  and  him  who  gilds  the  sky!” 
Replied  the  king,  elated  with  his  praise, 

“My  strength  were  still,  as  once  in  better  days. 
When  the  bold  Cephallens  the  leaguer  form’d. 

And  proud  Nericus  trembled  as  I  storm’d. 


TPIE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XXIV.  395 

Such  were  I  now,  not  absent  from  your  deed 

When  the  last  sun  beheld  the  suitors  bleed,  440 

This  arm  had  aided  yours,  this  hand  bestrown 

Our  floors  with  death,  and  push’d  the  slaughter  on; 

Nor  had  the  sire  been  separate  from  the  son.” 

They  communed  thus;  while  homeward  bent  their  way 
The  swains  fatigued  with  labours  of  the  day: 

Dolius  the  first,  the  venerable  man; 

And  next  his  sons,  a  long  succeeding  train. 

For  due  refection  to  the  bower  they  came. 

Call’d  by  the  careful  old  Sicilian  dame. 

Who  nursed  the  children,  and  now  tends  the  sire:  450 

They  see  their  lord,  they  gaze,  and  they  admire. 

On  chairs  and  beds,  in  order  seated  round. 

They  share  the  gladsome  board;  the  roofs  resound. 

While  thus  Ulysses  to  his  ancient  friend: 

“Forbear  your  wonder,  and  the  feast  attend: 

The  rites  have  waited  long.”— The  chief  commands 
Their  loves  in  vain;  old  Dolius  spreads  his  hands. 

Springs  to  his  master  with  a  warm  embrace. 

And  fastens  kisses  on  his  hands  and  face; 

Then  thus  broke  out:  “Oh  long,  oh  daily  mourn’d!  460 
Beyond  our  hopes,  and  to  our  wish  return’d! 

Conducted  sure  by  Heaven!  for  Heaven  alone 
Could  work  this  wonder;  welcome  to  thy  own! 

And  joys  and  happiness  attend  thy  throne ! 

Who  knows  thy  bless’d,  thy  wish’d  return?  Oh!  say. 

To  the  chaste  queen  shall  we  the  news  convey? 

Or  hears  she,  and  with  blessings  loads  the  day?” 

“Dismiss  that  care,  for  to  the  royal  bride 
Already  is  it  known,”  the  king  replied. 

And  straight  resumed  his  seat;  while  round  him  bows  470 
Each  faithful  youth,  and  breathes  out  ardent  vows: 

Then  all  beneath  their  father  take  their  place. 

Rank’d  by  their  ages,  and  the  banquet  grace. 

Now  flying  Fame  the  swift  report  had  spread 
Through  all  the  city,  of  the  suitors  dead. 


396  the  odyssey,  BOOK  XXIV. 

In  throngs  they  rise,  and  to  the  palace  crowd ; 

Their  sighs  were  many,  and  the  tumult  loud. 

Weeping  they  bear  the  mangled  heaps  of  slain. 

Inhume  the  natives  in  their  native  plain. 

The  rest  in  ships  are  wafted  o’er  the  main.  480 

Then  sad  in  council  all  the  seniors  sate, 

Frequent  and  full,  assembled  to  debate: 

Amid  the  circle  first  Eupithes  rose. 

Big  was  his  eye  with  tears,  his  heart  with  woes: 

The  bold  Antinoiis  was  his  age’s  pride. 

The  first  who  by  Ulysses’  arrow  died. 

Down  his  wan  cheek  the  trickling  torrent  ran, 

As  mixing  words  with  sighs  he  thus  began: 

“Great  deeds,  oh  friends !  this  wondrous  man  has  wrought. 
And  mighty  blessings  to  his  country  brought !  >  490 

With  ships  he  parted,  and  a  numerous  train. 

Those,  and  their  ships,  he  buried  in  the  main. 

Now  he  returns,  and  first  essays  his  hand 
In  the  best  blood  of  all  his  native  land. 

Haste  then,  and  ere  to  neighbouring  Pyle  he  flies. 

Or  sacred  Elis,  to  procure  supplies ; 

Arise — or  ye  for  ever  fall — arise ! 

Shame  to  this  age,  and  all  that  shall  succeed. 

If  unrevenged  your  sons  and  brothers  bleed. 

Prove  that  we  live,  by  vengeance  on  his  head,  500 

Or  sink  at  once  forgotten  with  the  dead.” 

Here  ceased  he :  but  indignant  tears  let  fall 
Spoke  when  he  ceased:  dumb  sorrow  touch’d  them  all. 
When  from  the  palace  to  the  wondering  throng 
Sage  Medon  came,  and  Phemius  came  along. 

(Restless  and  early  sleep’s  soft  bands  they  broke ;) 

And  Medon  first  th’  assembled  chiefs  bespoke: 

“Hear  me,  ye  peers  and  elders  of  the  land. 

Who  deem  this  act  the  work  of  mortal  hand ; 

As  o’er  the  heaps  of  death  Ulysses  strode,  510 

These  eyes,  these  eyes,  beheld  a  present  god. 

Who  now  before  him,  now  beside  him  stood. 

Fought  as  he  fought,  and  mark’d  his  way  with  blood; 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XXIV. 


397 


In  vain  old  Mentor’s  form  the  god  belied ;  ^ 

’Twas  Heaven  that  struck,  and  Heaven  was  on  his  side.” 

A  sudden  horror  all  th’  assembly  shook, 

When,  slowly  rising,  Halitherses  spoke: 

(Reverend  and  wise,  whose  comprehensive  view 
At  once  the  present  and  the  future  knew :) 

“Me  too,  ye  fathers,  hear!  from  you  proceed  520 

The  ills  ye  mourn ;  your  own  the  guilty  deed. 

Ye  gave  your  sons,  your  lawless  sons,  the  rein; 

(Oft  warn’d  by  Mentor  and  myself  in  vain;) 

An  absent  hero’s  bed  they  sought  to  soil. 

An  absent  hero’s  wealth  they  made  their  spoil ; 
Immoderate  riot,  and  intemperate  lust! 

Th’  offence  was  great,  the  punishment  was  just. 

Weigh  then  my  counsels  with  an  equal  scale. 

Nor  rush  to  ruin.  Justice  will  prevail.” 

His  moderate  words  some  better  minds  persuade:  530 
They  part,  and  join  him;  but  the  number  stay’d. 

They  storm,  they  shout,  with  hasty  phrensy  fired. 

And  second  all  Eupithes’  rage  inspired. 

They  case  their  limbs  in  brass;  to  arms  they  run; 

The  broad  effulgence  blazes  in  the  sun. 

Before  the  city,  and  in  ample  plain, 

They  meet:  Eupithes  heads  the  frantic  train. 

Fierce  for  his  son,  he  breathes  his  threats  in  air; 

Fate  hears  them  not,  and  Death  attends  him  there. 

This  pass’d  on  earth;  while  in  the  realms  above  540 
Minerva  thus  to  cloud-compelling  Jove: 

“May  I  presume  to  search  thy  secret  soul? 

Oh,  Power  supreme!  oh.  Ruler  of  the  whole! 

Say,  hast  thou  doom’d  to  this  divided  state 
Or  peaceful  amity,  or  stern  debate? 

Declare  thy  purpose,  for  thy  will  is  fate.” 

“Is  not  thy  thought  my  own?”  the  god  replies 
Who  rolls  the  thunder  o’er  the  vaulted  skies; 

“Hath  not  long  since  thy  knowing  soul  decreed. 

The  chief’s  return  should  make  the  guilty  bleed?  550 
’Tis  done,  and  at  thy  will  the  Fates  succeed. 


398 


THE  ODYSSEY,  BOOK  XXIV. 


Yet  hear  the  issue:  since  Ulysses’  hand 

Has  slain  the  suitors,  Heaven  shall  bless  the  land. 

None  now  the  kindred  of  th’  unjust  shall  own; 

Forgot  the  slaughter’d  brother  and  the  son: 

Each  future  day  increase  of  wealth  shall  bring, 

And  o’er  the  past  Oblivion  stretch  her  wing.  ^ 

Long  shall  Ulysses  in  his  empire  rest, 

His  people  blessing,  by  his  people  bless’d : 

Let  all  be  peace.” — He  said,  and  gave  the  nod  560 

That  binds  the  Fates;  the  sanction  of  the  god: 

And  prompt  to  execute  th’  eternal  will. 

Descended  Pallas  from  th’  Olympian  hill. 

Now  sat  Ulysses  at  the  rural  feast. 

The  rage  of  hunger  and  of  thirst  repress’d :  • 

To  watch  the  foe  a  trusty  spy  he  sent;  ^ 

A  son  of  Dolius  on  the  message  went. 

Stood  in  the  way,  and  at  a  glance  beheld 
The  foe  approach,  embattled  on  the  field. 

With  backward  step  he  hastens  to  the  bower,  570 

And  tells  the  news.  They  arm  with  all  their  power. 

Four  friends  alone  Ulysses’  cause  embrace. 

And  six  were  all  the  sons  of  Dolius’  race: 

Old  Dolius  too  his  rusted  arms  put  on; 

And,  still  more  old,  in  arms  Laertes  shone. 

Trembling  with  warmth,  the  hoary  heroes  stand, 

And  brazen  panoply  invests  the  band. 

The  opening  gates  at  once  their  war  display: 

Fierce  they  rush  forth:  Ulysses  leads  the  way. 

That  moment  joins  them  with  celestial  aid,  580 

In  Mentor’s  form,  the  Jove-descended  maid: 

The  suffering  hero  felt  his  patient  breast 
Swell  with  new  joy,  and  thus  his  son  address’d: 

“Behold,  Telemachus! — nor  fear  the  sight — 

The  brave  embattled,  the  grim  front  of  fight ! 

The  valiant  with  the  valiant  must  contend: 

Shame  not  the  line  whence  glorious  you  descend. 


THE  ODYSSEY  BOOK  XXIV. 


399 


Wide  o’er  the  world  their  martial  fame  was  spread  ;Hi 
Regard  thyself,  the  living,  and  the  dead.” 

“  Thy  eyes,  great  father !  on  this  battle  cast,  590 

Shall  learn  from  me  Penelop6  was  chaste.” 

So  spoke  Telemachus !  the  gallant  boy. 

Good  old  Laertes  heard  with  panting  joy ; 

And  “Bless’d,  thrice  bless’d,  this  happy  day!”  he  cries; 

“  The  day  that  shows  me,  ere  I  close  my  eyes, 

A  son  and  grandson  of  the  Arcesian  name 
Strive  for  fair  virtue,  and  contest  for  fame  1” 

Then  thus  Minerva  in  Laertes’  ear: 

“Son  of  Arcesius,  reverend  warrior,  hear! 

Jove  and  Jove’s  daughter  first  implore  in  prayer,  600 
Then,  whirling  high,  discharge  thy  lance  in  air.” 

She  said,  infusing  courage  with  the  word. 

Jove  and  Jove’s  daughter  then  the  chief  implored; 

And,  whirling  high,  dismiss’d  the  lance  in  air. 

Full  at  Eupithes  drove  the  deathful  spear : 

The  brass-cheek’d  helmet  opens  to  the  wound ; 

He  falls,  earth  thunders,  and  his  arms  resound. 

Before  the  father  and  the  conquering  son 
Heaps  rush  on  heaps,  tbey  fight,  they  drop,  they  run.  610 
Now  by  the  sword,  and  now  the  javelin  fall 
The  rebel  race,  and  death  had  swallow’d  all. 

But  from  on  high  the  blue- eyed  virgin  cried ; 

Her  awful  voice  detain’d  the  headlong  tide : 

“Forbear,  ye  nations!  your  mad  hands  forbear 
From  mutual  slaughter !  Peace  descends  to  spare.” 

Fear  shook  the  nations :  at  the  voice  divine 
They  drop  their  javelins,  and  their  rage  resign. 

All  scatter’d  round  their  glittering  weapons  lie ; 

Some  fall  to  earth,  and  some  confus’dly  fly. 

With  dreadful  shouts  Ulysses  pour’d  along,  620 

Swift  as  an  eagle,  as  an  eagle  strong. 

But  Jove’s  red  arm  the  burning  thunder  aims; 

Before  Minerva  shot  the  livid  flames; 


1 


400  the  odyssey,  book  XXIV. 

Blazing  they  fell,  and  at  her  feet  expired ; 

Then  stopp’d  the  goddess,  trembled,  and  retired. 

“Descended  from  the  gods!  Ulysses,  cease! 
Offend  not  Jove,  obey,  and  give  the  peace.” 

So  Pallas  spoke:  the  mandate  from  above 
The  king  obey’d.  The  virgin-seed  of  Jove, 

In  Mentor’s  form,  confirm’d  the  full  accord, 

And  willing  nations  knew  their  lawful  lord. 


POSTSCRIPT,  BY  MR.  POPE. 


I  CANNOT  dismiss  this  work  without  a  few  observations 
on  the  character  and  style  of  it.  Whoever  reads  the 
Odyssey  with  an  eye  to  the  Iliad,  expecting  to  find  it  of 
the  same  character  or  of  the  same  sort  of  spirit,  will  be 
grievously  deceived,  and  err  against  the  first  principle  of 
criticism,  which  is,  to  consider  the  nature  of  the  piece, 
and  the  intent  of  its  author.  The  Odyssey  is  a  moral  and 
political  work,  instructive  to  all  degrees  of  men,  and  filled 
with  images,  examples,  and  precepts  of  civil  and  domestic 
life.  Homer  is  here  a  person, 

Qui  didicit,  patrics  quid  debeat,  et  quid  mnicis, 

Quo  sit  amore  parens,  qao  f rater  amandus,  et  hospes: 

Qui  quid  sit  pulcrum  quid  turpe,  quid  utile,  quid  non, 

Plenius  et  melius  Chrysippo  et  Crantore  dicit. 

The  Odyssey  is  the  reverse  of  the  Iliad,  in  moral,  subject, 
manner  and  style;  to  which  it  has  no  sort  of  relation,  but 
as  the  story  happens  to  follow  in  order  of  time,  and  as 
some  of  the  same  persons  are  actors  in  it.  Yet  from  this 
incidental  connection,  many  have  been  misled  to  regard  it 
as  a  continuation  or  second  part,  and  thence  to  expect  a 
parity  of  character  inconsistent  with  its  nature. 

It  is  no  wonder  that  the  common  reader  should  fall  into 
this  mistake,  when  so  great  a  critic  as  Longinus  seems  not 
wholly  free  from  it;  although  what  he  has  said,  has  been 
generally  understood  to  import  a  severer  censure  of  the 
Odyssey  than  it  really  does,  if  we  consider  the  occasion 
on  which  it  is  introduced,  and  the  circumstances  to  which 
it  is  confined. 

“The  Odyssey,”  says  he,  “is  an  instance  how  natural  it 
is  to  a  great  genius,  when  it  begins  to  grow  old  and  decline, 

A  A 


402 


POSTSCRIPT. 


to  delight  itself  in  narrations  and  fables.  For  that  Homer 
composed  the  Odyssey  after  the  Iliad,  many  proofs  may  be 
given,”  &c.  “From  hence,  in  my  judgment,  it  proceeds, 
that  as  the  Iliad  was  written  while  his  spirit  was  in  its 
greatest  vigour,  the  whole  structure  of  that  work  is  dra¬ 
matic,  and  full  of  action ;  whereas  the  greater  part  of  the 
Odyssey  is  employed  in  narration,  which  is  the  taste  of  old 
age:  so  that  in  this  latter  piece  we  may  compare  him  to 
the  setting  sun,  which  has  still  the  same  greatness,  but  not 
the  same  ardour  or  force.  He  speaks  not  in  the  same 
strain;  we  see  no  more  that  sublime  of  the  Iliad,  which 
marches  on  with  a  constant  pace,  without  ever  being 
stopped  or  retarded:  there  appears  no  more  that  hurry, 
and  that  strong  tide  of  motions  and  passions,  pouring  one 
after  another:  there  is  no  more  the  same  fury,  or  the  same 
volubility  of  diction,  so  suitable  to  action,  and  all  along 
drawing  in  such  innumerable  images  of  nature.  But 
Homer,  like  the  ocean,  is  always  great,  even  when  he 
ebbs  and  retires ;  even  when  he  is  lowest,  and  loses  him¬ 
self  most  in  narrations  and  incredible  fictions :  as  instances 
of  this,  we  cannot  forget  the  descriptions  of  tempests,  the 
adventures  of  Ulysses  with  the  Cyclops,  and  many  others. 
But  though  all  this  be  age,  it  is  the  age  of  Homer. — And  it 
may  be  said,  for  the  credit  of  these  fictions,  that  they  are 
beautiful  dreams,  or,  if  you  will,  the  dreams  of  Jupiter 
himself.  I  spoke  of  the  Odyssey,  only  to  show  that  the 
greatest  poets,  when  their  genius  wants  strength  and 
warmth  for  the  pathetic,  for  the  most  part  employ  them¬ 
selves  in  painting  the  manners.  This  Homer  has  done  in 
characterizing  the  suitors,  and  describing  their  way  of  life ; 
which  is  properly  a  branch  of  comedy,  whose  peculiar 
business  it  is  to  represent  the  manners  of  men.” 

We  must  first  observe,  it  is  the  sublime  of  which  Longi¬ 
nus  is  writing:  that,  and  not  the  nature  of  Homer’s  poem, 
is  his  subject.  After  having  highly  extolled  the  sublimity 
and  fire  of  the  Iliad,  he  justly  observes  the  Odyssey  to 
have  less  of  those  qualities,  and  to  turn  more  on  the  side 
of  moral,  and  reflections  on  human  life.  Nor  is  it  his 


POSTSCRIPT. 


403 


business  here  to  determine,  whether  the  elevated  spirit  of 
the  one,  or  the  just  moral  of  the  other,  be  the  greater 

excellence  in  itself. 

Secondly,  that  fire  and  fury  of  which  he  is  speaking, 
cannot  well  be  meant  of  the  general  spirit  and  inspiration 
which  is  to  run  through  a  whole  epic  poem,  but  of  that 
particular  warmth  and  impetuosity  necessary  in  some 
parts,  to  image  or  represent  actions  or  passions,  of  haste, 
tumult,  and  violence.  It  is  on  occasions  of  citing  some 
such  particular  passages  in  Homer,  that  Longinus  breaks 
into  this  reflection ;  which  seems  to  determine  his  meaning 
chiefly  to  that  sense. 

Upon  the  whole,  he  affirms  the  Odyssey  to  have  less 
sublimity  and  fire  than  the  Iliad,  but  he  does  not  say  it 
wants  the  sublime  or  wants  fire.  He  affirms  it  to  be 
narrative,  but  not  that  the  narration  is  defective.  He 
affirms  it  to  abound  in  fictions,  not  that  those  fictions  aie 
ill  invented  or  ill  executed.  He  affirms  it  to  be  nice 
and  particular  in  painting  the  manners,  but  not  that  those 
manners  are  ill  painted.  If  Homer  has  fully  in  these 
points  accomplished  his  own  design,  and  done  all  that  the 
nature  of  his  poem  demanded  or  allowed,  it  still  remains 
perfect  in  its  kind,  and  as  much  a  master-piece  as  the  Iliad. 

The  amount  of  the  passage  is  this :  that  in  his  own  par¬ 
ticular  taste,  and  with  respect  to  the  sublime,  Longinus 
preferred  the  Iliad:  and  because  the  Odyssey  was  less 
active  and  lofty,  he  judged  it  the  work  of  the  old  age  of 

Homer.  ,  tt  » 

If  this  opinion  be  true,  it  will  only  prove,  that  Homei  s 

age  might  determine  him  in  the  choice  of  his  subject,  not 
that  it  affected  him  in  the  execution  of  it;  and  that  which 
would  be  a  very  wrong  instance  to  prove  the  decay  of  his 
imagination,  is  a  very  good  one  to  evince  the  strength  of 
his  judgment.  For  had  he  (as  Madame  Dacier  observed) 
composed  the  Odyssey  in  his  youth,  and  the  Iliad  in  his 
age,  both  must  in  reason  have  been  exactly  the  same  as 
they  now  stand.  To  blame  Homer  for  his  choice  of  such 
a  subject,  as  did  not  admit  the  same  incidents  and  the  same 


404 


POSTSCRIPT. 


k 


pomp  of  style  as  his  former,  is  to  take  offence  at  too  much 
variety,  and  to  imagine  that  when  a  man  has  written  one 
good  thing,  he  must  ever  after  only  copy  himself. 

The  ‘Battle  of  Constantine,’  and  the  ‘School  of  Athens,’ 
are  both  pieces  of  Raphael:  Shall  we  censure  the  ‘School 
of  Athens’  as  faulty,  because  it  has  not  the  fury  and  fire 
of  the  other?  or  shall  we  say  that  Raphael  was  grown 
grave  and  old,  because  he  chose  to  represent  the  manners 
of  old  men  and  philosophers?  There  is  all  the  silence, 
tranquillity,  and  composure  in  the  one,  and  all  the  warmth 
hurry,  and  tumult  in  the  other,  which  the  subject  of  either 
required :  both  of  them  had  been  imperfect,  if  they  had  not 
been  as  they  are.  And  let  the  poet  or  painter  be  young  or 
old,  who  designs  or  performs  in  this  manner,  it  proves  him 
to  have  made  the  piece  at  a  time  of  life  when  he  was 
master  not  only  of  his  art,  but  of  his  discretion. 

Aristotle  makes  no  such  distinction  between  the  two 
poems:  he  constantly  cites  them  with  equal  praise,  and 
draws  the  rules  and  examples  of  epic  writing  equally 
from  both.  But  it  is  rather  to  the  Odyssey  that  Horace 
gives  the  preference,  in  the  Epistle  to  Lollius,  and  in  the 
Art  of  Poetry.  It  is  remarkable  how  opposite  his  opinion 
is  to  that  of  Longinus :  and  that  the  particulars  he  chooses 
to  extol,  are  those  very  fictions  and  pictures  of  the  man¬ 
ners,  which  the  other  seems  least  to  approve.  Those 
fables  and  manners  are  the  very  essence  of  the  work: 
but  even  without  that  regard,  the  fables  themselves  have 
both  more  invention  and  more  instruction,  and  the  manners 
more  moral  and  example,  than  those  of  the  Iliad. 

In  some  points  (and  those  the  most  essential  to  the  epic 
poem)  the  Odyssey  is  confessed  to  excel  the  Iliad ;  and 
principally  in  the  great  end  of  it,  the  moral.  The  conduct, 
turn,  and  disposition  of  the  fable  is  also  what  the  critics 
allow  to  be  the  better  model  for  epic  writers  to  follow; 
accordingly  we  find  much  more  of  the  cast  of  this  poem 
than  of  the  other  in  the  iEneid,  and  (w^hat  next  to  that 
is  perhaps  the  greatest  example)  in  the  Telemachus. 
In  the  manners,  it  is  no  way  inferior:  Longinus  is  so  far 

\ 


POSTSCRIPT. 


405 


from  finding  any  defect  in  these,  that  he  rather  taxes 
Homer  with  painting  them  too  minutely.  As  to  the  nar- 
rations,  although  they  are  more  numerous  as  the  occasions 
are  more  frequent,  yet  they  carry  no  more  the  marks  ot 
old  age,  and  are  neither  more  prolix,  nor  more  circum¬ 
stantial,  than  the  conversations  and  dialogues  of  the  Iliad. 
Not  to  mention  the  length  of  those  of  Phoenix  in  the  nint 
book,  and  of  Nestor  in  the  eleventh  (which  may  be  thought 
in  compliance  to  their  characters),  those  of  Glaucus  in  the 
sixth,  of  iEneas  in  the  twentieth,  and  some  others,  must 
be  allowed  to  exceed  any  in  the  whole  Odyssey.  And 
that  the  propriety  of  style,  and  the  numbers,  m  the 
narrations  of  each  are  equal,  will  appear  to  any  who 

compare  them.  ^ 

To  form  a  right  judgment,  whether  the  pnius  of  Homer 

had  suffered  any  decay;  we  must  consider,  m  both  his 
poems,  such  parts  as  are  of  a  similar  nature,  and  will  bear 
comparison.  And  it  is  certain  we  shall  find  in  each  the 
same  vivacity  and  fecundity  of  invention,  the  same  h  e 
and  strength  of  imagining  and  colouring,  the  particuai 
descriptions  as  highly  painted,  the  figures  as  bold,  the 
metaphors  as  animated,  and  the  numbers  as  harmonious 

and  as  various. 

The  Odyssey  is  a  perpetual  source  of  poetry:  the  stream 
is  not  the  less  full  for  being  gentle;  though  it  is  true  (when 
we  speak  only  with  regard  to  the  sublime)  that  a  river, 
foaming  and  thundering  in  cataracts  from  rocks  and  preci- 
pices  is  what  more  strikes  amaze,  and  fills  the  mind,  than 
the  same  body  of  water,  flowing  afterwards  through  peace- 
fill  vales  and  agreeable  scenes  of  pasturage. 

The  Odyssey,  as  I  have  before  said,  ought  to  be  con¬ 
sidered  according  to  its  own  nature  and  design,  not  with 
an  eve  to  the  Iliad.  To  censure  Homer,  because  it  is 
unlike  what  it  was  never  meant  to  resemble,  is  as  it  a 
gardener,  who  had  purposely  cultivated  two  beautiful 
trees  of  contrary  natures,  as  a  specimen  of  his  skill  in  t  e 
several  kinds,  should  be  blamed  for  not  bringing  them  into 
pairs;  when  in  root,  stem,  leaf,  and  flower,  each  was  so 


406 


POSTSCRIPT. 


entirely  different,  that  one  must  have  been  spoiled,  in  the 
endeavour  to  match  the  other. 

Longinus,  who  saw  this  poem  was  “partly  of  the  nature 
of  comedy,”  ought  not,  for  that  very  reason,  to  have  con¬ 
sidered  it  with  a  view  to  the  Iliad.  How  little  any  such 
resemblance  was  the  intention  of  Homer,  may  appear 
from  hence,  that,  although  the  character  of  Ulysses  was 
there  already  drawn,  yet  here  he  purposely  turns  to 
another  side  of  it,  and  shows  him  not  in  that  full  light  of 
glory,  but  in  the  shade  of  common  life,  with  a  mixture  of 
such  qualities  as  are  requisite  to  all  the  lowest  accidents 
of  it,  struggling  with  misfortunes,  and  on  a  level  with  the 
meanest  of  mankind.  As  for  the  other  persons,  none  of 
them  are  above  what  we  call  the  higher  comedy :  Calypso, 
though  a  goddess,  is  a  character  of  intrigue.  The  suitors 
yet  more  approaching  to  it;  the  Pheeacians  are  of  the  same 
cast ;  the  Cyclops,  Melanthius,  and  Irus,  descend  even  to 
droll  characters;  and  the  scenes  that  appear  throughout 
are  generally  of  the  comic  kind;  banquets,  revels,  sports, 
loves,  and  the  pursuit  of  a  woman. 

From  the  nature  of  the  poem,  we  shall  form  an  idea  of 
the  style.  The  diction  is  to  follow  the  images,  and  to  take 
its  colour  from  the  complexion  of  the  thoughts.  Accord¬ 
ingly  the  Odyssey  is  not  always  clothed  in  the  majesty  of 
verse  proper  to  tragedy,  but  sometimes  descends  into  the 
plainer  narrative,  and  sometimes  even  to  that  familiar 
dialogue  essential  to  comedy.  However,  where  it  cannot 
support  a  sublimity,  it  always  preserves  a  dignity,  or  at 
least  a  propriety. 

There  is  a  real  beauty  in  an  easy,  pure,  perspicuous 
description,  even  of  a  low  action.  There  are  numerous 
instances  of  this  both  in  Homer  and  Virgil :  and  perhaps 
those  natural  passages  are  not  the  least  pleasing  of  their 
works.  It  is  often  the  same  in  history,  where  the  repre¬ 
sentations  of  common,  or  even  domestic  things,  in  clear, 
plain,  and  natural  words,  are  frequently  found  to  make  the 
liveliest  impression  on  the  reader. 

The  question  is,  how  far  a  poet,  in  pursuing  the  descrip- 


POSTSCRIPT. 


407 


tioii  or  image  of  an  action,  can  attach  himself  to  little  cir¬ 
cumstances,  without  vulgarity  or  trifling?  what  particulars 
are  proper,  and  enliven  the  image ;  or  what  are  imperti¬ 
nent,  and  clog  it?  In  this  matter  painting  is  to  be  con¬ 
sulted,  and  the  whole  regard  had  to  those  circumstances 
which  contribute  to  form  a  full,  and  yet  not  a  confused, 
idea  of  a  thing. 

Epithets  are  of  vast  service  to  this  effect,  and  the  right 
use  of  these  is  often  the  only  expedient  to  render  the  nar¬ 
ration  poetical. 

The  great  point  of  judgment  is  to  distinguish  when  to 
speak  simply,  and  when  figuratively:  but  whenever  the 
poet  is  obliged  by  the  nature  of  his  subject  to  descend  to 
the  lower  manner  of  writing,  an  elevated  style  would  be 
affected,  and  therefore  ridiculous;  and  the  more  he  was 
forced  upon  figures  and  metaphors  to  avoid  that  lowness,  the 
more  the  image  would  be  broken,  and  consequently  obscure. 

One  may  add,  that  the  use  of  the  grand  style  on  little 
subjects,  is  not  only  ludicrous,  but  a  sort  of  transgression 
against  the  rules  of  proportion  and  mechanics :  it  is  using 
a  vast  force  to  lift  a  feather. 

I  believe,  now  I  am  upon  this  head,  it  will  be  found  a 
just  observation,  that  the  low  actions  of  life  cannot  be  put 
into  a  figurative  style,  without  being  ridiculous;  but  things 
natural  can.  Metaphors  raise  the  latter  into  dignity,  as 
we  see  in  the  Georgies ;  but  throw  the  former  into  ridicule 
as  in  the  Lutrin.  I  think  this  may  very  well  be  accounted 
for:  laughter  implies  censure;  inanimate  and  irrational 
beings  are  not  objects  of  censure,  therefore  they  may  be 
elevated  as  much  as  you  please,  and  no  ridicule  follows: 
but  when  rational  beings  are  represented  above  their  real 
character,  it  becomes  ridiculous  in  art,  because  it  is  vicious 
in  morality.  The  bees  in  Virgil,  were  they  rational  beings, 
would  be  ridiculous  by  having  their  actions  and  manners 
represented  on  a  level  with  creatures  so  superior  as  men ; 
since  it  would  imply  folly  or  pride,  which  are  the  proper 
objects  of  ridicule. 

The  use  of  pompous  expressions  for  low  actions  or 


408 


POSTSCRIPT. 


thoughts,  is  the  true  sublime  of  Don  Quixote.  How  far 
unfit  it  is  for  epic  poetry,  appears  in  its  being  the  per¬ 
fection  of  the  mock  epic.  It  is  so  far  from  being  the 
sublime  of  tragedy^  that  it  is  the  cause  of  all  bombast, 
when  poets,  instead  of  being  (as  they  imagine)  constantly 
lofty,  only  preserve  throughout  a  painful  equality  of  fustian ; 
that  continued  swell  of  language  (which  runs  indiscrimi¬ 
nately  even  through  their  lowest  characters,  and  rattles 
like  some  mightiness  of  meaning  in  the  most  indifferent 
subjects)  is  of  a  piece  with  that  perpetual  elevation  of  tone 
which  the  players  have  learned  from  it;  and  which  is  not 
speaking,  but  vociferating. 

There  is  still  more  reason  for  a  variation  of  style  in 
epic  poetry  than  in  tragic,  to  distinguish  between  that 
language  of  the  gods  proper  to  the  muse  who  sings,  and 
is  inspired ;  and  that  of  men,  who  are  introduced  speaking 
only  according  to  nature.  Farther,  there  ought  to  be  a 
difference  of  style  observed  in  the  speeches  of  human 
persons,  and  those  of  deities;  and  again,  in  those  which 
may  be  called  set  harangues  or  orations,  and  those  which 
are  only  conversation  and  dialogue.  Homer  has  more  of 
the  latter  than  any  other  poet ;  what  Virgil  does  by  two  or 
three  words  of  narration,  Homer  still  performs  by  speeches: 
not  only  replies,  but  even  rejoinders,  are  frequent  in  him, 
a  practice  almost  unknown  to  Virgil.  This  renders  his 
poems  more  animated,  but  less  grave  and  majestic;  and 
consequently  necessitates  the  frequent  use  of  a  lower  style. 
The  writers  of  tragedy  lie  under  the  same  necessity  if 
they  would  copy  nature ;  whereas  that  painted  and  poeti¬ 
cal  diction  which  they  perpetually  use,  would  be  improper 
even  in  orations  designed  to  move  with  all  the  arts  of 
rhetoric:  this  is  plain  from  the  practice  of  Demosthenes 
and  Cicero ;  and  Virgil,  in  those  of  Drances  and  Turnus, 
gives  an  eminent  example,  how  far  removed  the  style  of 
them  ought  to  be  from  such  an  excess  of  figures  and 
ornaments:  which  indeed  fits  only  that  language  of  the 
gods  we  have  been  speaking  of,  or  that  of  a  muse  under 
inspiration. 


POSTSCRIPT. 


409 


To  read  through  a  whole  work  in  this  strain,  is  like 
travelling  all  along  the  ridge  of  a  hill,  which  is  not  half 
so  agreeable  as  sometimes  gradually  to  rise,  and  sometimes 
gently  to  descend,  as  the  way  leads,  and  as  the  end  of  the 

journey  directs.  •  •  j 

Indeed,  the  true  reason  that  so  few  poets  have  imitated 

Homer  in  these  lower  parts,  has  been  the  extreme  difficulty 
of  preserving  that  mixture  of  ease  and  dignity  essential  to 
them.  For  it  is  as  hard  for  an  epic  poem  to  stoop  to  the 
narrative  with  success,  as  for  a  prince  to  descend  to  be 
familiar,  without  diminution  to  his  greatness.  ^ 

The  sublime  style  is  more  easily  counterfeited  than  the 
natural:  something  that  passes  for  it,  or  sounds  like  it,  is 
common  in  all  false  writers:  but  nature,  purity,  perspicuity, 
and  simplicity,  never  walk  in  the  clouds;  they  are  obvious 
to  all  capacities,  and  where  they  are  not  evident,  they  do 


not  exist.'  ,  -  ,  , 

The  most  plain  narration  not  only  admits  of  these,  and 

of  harmony  (which  are  all  the  qualities  of  style),  but  it 
requires  every  one  of  them  to  render  it  pleasing.  n  t  e 
contrary,  whatever  pretends  to  a  share  of  the  sublime, 
may  pass,  notwithstanding  any  defects  in  the  rest;  nay, 
sometimes  without  any  of  them,  and  gain  the  admiration 


of  all  ordinary  readers. 

Homer,  in  his  lowest  narrations  or  speeches,  is  ever  easy, 
flowing,  copious,  clear,  and  harmonious.  He  shows  not 
less  invention,  in  assembling  the  humbler,  than  the  greater 
thoughts  and  images:  nor  less  judgment  in  proportioning 
the  style,  and  the  versification  to  these,  than  to  the  other. 
Let  it  be  remembered,  that  the  same  genius  that  soared 
the  highest,  and  from  whom  the  greatest  models  oi  the 
sublime  are  derived,  was  also  he  who  stooped  the  lowest, 
and  gave  to  the  simple  .narrative  its  utmost  perfection. 
Which  of  these  was  the  harder  task  to  Homer  himse  , 
cannot  pretend  to  determine;  but  to  his  fanslator  I  can 
affirm  (however  unequal  all  his  imitatnms  must  be)  that 
of  the  latter  has  been  much  the  more  difficult.  ^ 

Whoever  expects  here  the  same  pomp  o  veise,  an 
18 


410 


POSTSCRIPT. 


same  ornaments  of  diction,  as  in  the  Iliad,  he  will,  and  he 
ought  to  be,  disappointed.  Were  the  original  otherwise, 
it  had  been  an  offence  against  nature;  and  were  the  trans¬ 
lation  so,  it  were  an  offence  against  Homer,  which  is  the 
same  thing. 

It  must  be  allowed  that  there  is  a  majesty  and  harmony 
in  the  Greek  language,  which  greatly  contribute  to  elevate 
and  support  the  narration.  But  I  must  also  observe,  that 
this  is  an  advantage  grown  upon  the  language  since  Ho- 
mer^s  time:  for  things  are  removed  from  vulgarity  by  being 
out  of  use ;  and  if  the  words  we  could  find  in  any  present 
language  were  equally  sonorous  or  musical  in  themselves, 
they  would  still  appear  less  poetical  and  uncommon  than 
those  of  a  dead  one,  from  this  only  circumstance,  of  being 
in  every  man’s  mouth.  I  may  add  to  this  anothejr  disad¬ 
vantage  to  a  translator,  from  a  different  cause:  Homer 
seems  to  have  taken  upon  him  the  character  of  an  historian, 
antiquary,  divine,  and  professor  of  arts  and  sciences,  as 
well  as  a  poet.  In  one  or  other  of  these  characters,  he 
descends  into  many  particularities  which,  as  a  poet  only, 
perhaps  he  would  have  avoided.  All  these  ought  to  be 
preserved  by  a  faithful  translator,  who  in  some  measure 
takes  the  place  of  Homer ;  and  all  that  can  be  expected  from 
him  is  to  make  them  as  poetical  as  the  subject  will  bear. 
Many  arts,  therefore,  are  requisite  to  supply  these  disad¬ 
vantages,  in  order  to  dignify  and  solemnize  these  plainer 
parts,  which  hardly  admit  of  any  poetical  ornaments. 

Some  use  has  been  made  to  this  end  of  the  style  of 
Milton.  A  just  and  moderate  mixture  of  old  words  may 
have  an  effect  like  the  working  of  old  abbey  stones  into  a 
building,  which  I  have  sometimes  seen  to  give  a  kind  of 
venerable  air,  and  yet  not  destroy  the  neatness,  elegance, 
and  equality,  requisite  to  a  new  work;  I  mean,  without 
rendering  it  too  unfamiliar,  or  remote  from  the  present 
purity  of  writing,  or  from  that  ease  and  smoothness  which 
ought  always  to  accompany  narration  or  dialogue.  In 
leading  a  style  judiciously  antiquated,  one  finds  a  pleasure 
not  unlike  that  of  travelling  on  an  old  Roman  way:  but 


POSTSCRIPT. 


411 


then  the  road  must  be  as  good  as  the  way  is  ancient;  the 
style  must  be  such  in  which  we  may  evenly  proceed,  with¬ 
out  being  put  to  short  stops  by  sudden  abruptnesses,  or 
puzzled  by  frequent  turnings  and  transpositions.  No  man 
delights  in  furrows  and  stumbling-blocks :  and  let  our  love 
to  antiquity  bfe  ever  so  great,  a  fine  ruin  is  one  thing,  and 
a  heap  of  rubbish  another.  The  imitators  of  Milton,  like 
most  other  imitators,  are  not  copies,  but  caricatures  of  their 
original;  they  are  a  hundred  times  more  obsolete  and 
cramp  than  he,  and  equally  so  in  all  places :  whereas  it 
should  have  been  observed  of  Milton,  that  he  is  not  lavish 
of  his  exotic  words  and  phrases  every  where  alike,  but 
employs  them  much  more  where  the  subject  is  marvellous, 
vast,  and  strange,  as  in  the  scenes  of  heaven,  hell,  chaos, 
&c.,  than  where  it  is  turned  to  the  natural  and  agreeable, 
as  in  the  pictures  of  paradise,  the  loves  of  our  first  parents, 
entertainments  of  angels,  and  the  like.  In  general,  this 
unusual  style  better  serves  to  awaken  our  ideas  in  the 
descriptions  and  in  the  imaging  and  picturesque  parts, 
than  it  agrees  with  the  lower  sort  of  narrations,  the 
character  of  which  is  simplicity  and  purity.  Milton  has 
several  of  the  latter,  where  we  find  not  an  antiquated, 
affected,  or  uncouth  word,  for  some  hundred  lines  together ; 
as  in  his  fifth  book,  the  latter  part  of  the  eighth,  the  former 
of  the  tenth  and  eleventh  books,  and  in  the  narration  ot 
IVJichael  in  the  twelfth.  I  wonder  indeed  that  he,  who 
ventured  (contrary  to  the  practice  of  all  other  epic  poets) 
to  imitate  Homer’s  lownesses  in  the  narrative,  should  not 
also  have  copied  his  plainness  and  perspicuity  in  the  dra¬ 
matic  parts :  since  in  his  speeches  (where  clearness,  above 
all,  is  necessary)  there  is  frequently  such  transposition  and 
forced  construction,  that  the  very  sense  is  not  to  be  dis¬ 
covered  without  a  second'  or  third  reading,  and  in  this 
certainly  he  ought  to  be  no  example. 

To  preserve  the  true  character  of  Homer’s  style  in  the 
present  translation,  great  pains  have  been  taken  to  be  easy 
and  natural.  The  chief  merit  I  can  pretend  to,  is,  not  to 


412. 


POSTSCRIPT. 


have  been  carried  into  a  more  plausible  and  figurative 
manner  of  writing,  which  would  better  have  pleased  all 
readers,  but  the  judicious  ones.  My  errors  had  been  fewer, 
had  each  of  those  gentlemen  who  joined  with  me  shown 
as  much  of  the  severity  of  a  friend  to  me,  as  I  did  to  them, 
in  a  strict  animadversion  and  correction.  What  assistance 
I  received  from  them,  was  made  known  in  general  to  the 
public,  in  the  original  proposals  for  this  work,  and  the  par¬ 
ticulars  are  specified  at  the  conclusion  of  it;  to  which  I 
must  add  (to  be  punctually  just)  some  part  of  the  tenth  and 
fifteenth  books.  The  reader  will  now  be  too  good  a  judge 
how  much  the  greater  part  of  it,  and  consequently  of  its 
faults,  is  chargeable  upon  me  alone.  But  this  I  can  with 
integrity  affirm,  that  I  have  bestowed  as  much  time  and 
pains  upon  the  whole,  as  were  consistent  with  the  indis¬ 
pensable  duties  and  cares  of  life,  and  with  that  wretched 
state  of  health  which  God  has  been  pleased  to  make  my 
portion.  At  the  least,  it  is  a  pleasure  to  me  to  reflect,  that 
I  have  introduced  into  our  language  this  other  work  of  the 
greatest  and  the  most  ancient  of  poets,  with  some  dignity; 
and  I  hope  with  as  little  disadvantage  as  the  Iliad.  And 
if,  after  the  unmerited  success  of  that  translation,  any  one 
will  wonder  why  I  would  enterprise  the  Odyssey,  I  think 
it  sufficient  to  say,  that  Homer  himself  did  the  same,  or 
the  world  would  never  have  seen  it. 

I  designed  to  have  ended  this  postscript  here:  but  since 
I  am  now  taking  my  leave  of  Homer,  and  of  all  contro¬ 
versy  relating  to  him,  I  beg  leave  to  be  indulged,  if  I 
make  use  of  this  last  opportunity  to  say  a  very  few  words 
about  some  reflections  which  the  late  Madame  Dacier 
bestowed  on  the  first  part  of  my  Preface  to  the  Iliad,  and 
which  she  published  at  the  end  of  her  translation  of  that 
poem.* 

To  write  gravely  an  answer  to  them,  would  be  too  much 
for  the  reflections ;  and  to  say  nothing  concerning  them, 
would  be  too  little  for  the  author.  It  is  owing  to  the 


^  Second©  edition,  h  Paris,  1719. 


POSTSCRIPT. 


413 


industry  of  that  learned  lady,  that  our  polite  neighbours  are 
become  acquainted  with  many  of  Homer’s  beauties,  which 
were  hidden  from  them  before  in  Greek  and  in  Eustathius. 
She  challenges  on  this  account  a  particular  regard  from 
all  the  admirers  of  that  great  poet ;  and  I  hope  that  I  shall 
be  thought,  as  I  mean,  to  pay  some  part  of  this  debt  to  her 
memory,  in  what  I  am  now  writing. 

Had  these  reflections  fallen  from  the  pen  of  an  ordinary 
critic,  I  should  not  have  apprehended  their  effect,  and  should 
therefore  have  been  silent  concerning  them :  but  since  they 
are  Madame  Dacier’s,  I  imagine  that  they  must  be  of 
weight;  and  in  a  case  where  I  think  her  reasoning  veiy 
bad,  I  respect  her  authority. 

I  have  fought  under  Madame  Dacier’s  banner,  and  have 
waged  war  in  defence  of  the  divine  Homer  against  all  the 
heretics  of  the  age.  And  yet  it  is  Madame  Dacier  who 
accuses  me,  and  who  accuses  me  of  nothing  less  than  be¬ 
traying  our  common  cause.  She  affirms  that  the  most 
declared  enemies  of  this  author  have  never  said  any  thing 
against  him  more  injurious  or  more  unjust  than  I.  W^hat 
must  the  world  think  of  me,  after  such  a  judgment  passed 
by  so  great  a  critic ;  the  world,  who  decides  so  often,  and 
who  examines  so  seldom;  the  world,  who  even  in  matteis 
of  literature  is  almost  always  the  slave  of  authority  ?  Who 
will  suspect  that  so  much  learning  should  mistake,  that  so 
much  accuracy  should  be  misled,  or  that  so  much  candoui 
should  be  biased? 

All  this,  however,  has  happened ;  and  Madame  Dacier’s 
criticisms  on  my  Preface  flow  from  the  very  same  error, 
from  which  so  many  false  criticisms  of  her  countrymen 
upon  Homer  have  flowed,  and  which  she  has  so  justly  and 
so  severely  reproved;  I  mean  the  error  of  depending  on 
injurious  and  unskilful  tvo^nslcitioTis. 

An  indifferent  translation  may  be  of  some  use,  and  a 
good  one  will  be  of  a  great  deal.  But  I  think  that  no 
translation  ought  to  be  the  ground  of  criticism,  because 
no  man  ought  to  be  condemned  upon  another  man  s  ex- 


414 


POSTSCRIPT. 


planation  of  his  meaning:  could  Homer  have  had  the 
honour  of  explaining  his  before  that  august  tribunal  where 
Monsieur  de  la  Motte  presides,  I  make  no  doubt  but  he  had 
escaped  many  of  those  severe  animadversions  with  which 
some  French  authors  have  loaded  him,  and  from  which 
even  Madame  Dacier’s  translation  of  the  Iliad  could  not 
preserve  him. 

How  unhappy  it  was  for  me,  that  the  knowledge  of  our 
island  tongue  was  as  necessary  to  Madame  Dacier  in  my 
case,  as  the  knowledge  of  Greek  was  to  Monsieur  de  la 
Motte  in  that  of  our  great  author;  or  to  any  of  those 
whom  she  styles  blind  censurers,  and  blames  for  condemn¬ 
ing  what  they  did  not  understand. 

I  may  say  with  modesty,  that  she  knew  less  of  my  true 
sense  from  that  faulty  translation  of  part  of  my  Preface, 
than  those  blind  censurers  might  have  known  of  Homer’s 
even  from  the  translation  of  la  Valterie,  which  preceded 
her  own. 

■N. 

It  pleased  me,  however,  to  find,  that  her  objections  were 
not  levelled  at  the  general  doctrine,  or  at  any  essentials 
of  my  Preface,  but  only  at  a  few  particular  expressions. 
She  proposed  little  more  than  (to  use  her  own  phrase)  to 
combat  two  or  three  similes;  and  I  hope  that  to  combat 
a  simile  is  no  more  than  to  fight  with  a  shadow,  since  a 
simile  is  no  better  than  the  shadow  of  an  argument. 

She  lays  much  weight  where  I  laid  but  little,  and  ex¬ 
amines  with  more  scrupulosity  than  I  writ,  or  than  perhaps 
the  matter  requires. 

These  unlucky  similes,  taken  by  themselves,  may  perhaps 
render  my  meaning  equivocal  to  an  ignorant  translator; 
or  there  may  have  fallen  from  my  pen  some  expressions, 
which,  taken  by  themselves  likewise,  may  to  the  same 
person  have  the  same  effect.  But  if  the  translator  had 
been  master  of  our  tongue,  the  general  tenor  of  my  argu¬ 
ment,  that  which  precedes  and  that  which  follows  the 
passages  objected  to,  would  have  sufficiently  determined 
him  as  to  the  precise  meaning  of  them:  and  if  Madame 


POSTSCRIPT. 


415 


Dacier  had  taken  up  her  pen  a  little  more  leisurely,  or 
had  employed  it  with  more  temper,  she  would  not  have 
answered  paraphrases  of  her  own,  which  even  the  trans¬ 
lation  will  not  justify,  and  which  say,  more  than  once, 
the  very  contrary  to  what  I  have  said  in  the  passages 
themselves. 

If  any  person  has  curiosity  enough  to  read  the  whole 
paragraphs  in  my  Preface,  on  some  mangled  parts  of  which 
these  reflections  are  made,  he  will  easily  discern  that  I  am 
as  orthodox  as  Madame  Dacier  herself  in  those  very 
articles  on  which  she  treats  me  like  a  heretic;  he  will 
easily  see  that  all  the  difference  between  us  consists  in 
this,  that  I  offer  opinions,  and  she  delivers  doctrines ;  that 
my  imagination  represents  Homer  as  the  greatest  of  human 
poets,  whereas  in  hers  he  was  exalted  above  humanity; 
infallibility  and  impeccability  were  two  of  his  attributes. 
There  was,  therefore,  no  need  of  defending  Homer  against 
me,  who  (if  I  mistake  not)  had  carried  my  admiration  of 
him  as  far  as  it  can  be  carried,  without  giving  a  real  occa¬ 
sion  of  writing  in  his  defence. 

After  answering  my  harmless  similes, ^he  proceeds  to 
a  matter  which  does  not  regard  so  much  the  honour  of 
Homer,  as  that  of  the  times  he  lived  in ;  and  here  I  must 
confess  she  does  not  wholly  mistake  my  meaning,  but  I 
think  she  mistakes  the  state  of  the  question.  She  had 
said,  the  manners  of  those  times  were  so  much  the  better, 
the  less  they  were  like  ours.  I  thought  this  required  a 
little  qualification.  I  confess  that  in  my  opinion  the  world 
was  mended  in  some  points,  such  as  the  custom  of  putting 
whole  nations  to  the  sword,  condemning  kings  and  their 
families  to  perpetual  slavery,  and  a  few  others.  Madame 
Dacier  judges  otherwise  in  this;  but  as  to  the  lest,  pai- 
ticularly  in  preferring  the  simplicity  of  the  ancient  world 
to  the  luxury  of  ours,  which  is  the  main  point  contended  foi, 
she  owns  we  agree.  This  I  thought  was  well,  but  I  am 
so  unfortunate  that  this  too  is  taken  amiss,  and  called 
adopting,  or  (if  you  will)  stealing  her  sentiments.  The 


416 


POSTSCRIPT. 


truth  is,  she  might  have  said  her  v)ords;  for  I  used  them 
on  purpose,  being  then  professedly  citing  from  her:  though 
I  might  have  done  the  same  without  intending  that  com¬ 
pliment,  for  they  are  also  to  be  found  in  Eustathius;  and 
the  sentiment  I  believe  is  that  of  all  mankind.  I  cannot 
really  tell  what  to  say  to  this  whole  remark,  only  that  in 
the  first  part  of  it,  Madame  Dacier  is  displeased  that  I  do 
not  agree  with  her,  and  in  the  last  that  I  do:  but  this  is  a 
temper  which  every  polite  man  should  overlook  in  a  lady. 

To  punish  my  ingratitude,  she  resolves  to  expose  my 
blunders,  and  selects  two,  which  I  suppose  are  the  most 
flagrant,  out  of  the  many  for  which  she  could  have  chas¬ 
tised  me.  It  happens  that  the  first  of  these  is,  in  part,  the 
translator’s,  and  in  part  her  own,  without  any  share  of 
mine :  she  quotes  the  end  of  a  sentence,  and  he  puts  in 
French  what  I  never  wrote  in  English :  “  Homer,”  I  said, 
“opened  a  new  and  boundless  walk  for  his  imagination, 
and  created  a  world  for  himself  in  the  invention  of  fable 
which  he  translates,  ^^Homere  crea  pour  son  usage  un 
monde  mouvant,  en  inventant  la  fable.” 

Madame  Dacier  justly  wonders  at  this  nonsense  in  me ; 
and  I,  in  the  translator.  As  to  what  I  meant  by  Homer’s 
invention  of  fable,  it  is  afterwards  particularly  distin¬ 
guished  from  that  extensive  sense  in  which  she  took  it,  by 
these  words:  “If  Homer  was  not  the  first  who  introduced 
the  deities  (as  Herodotus  imagines)  into  the  religion  of 
Greece,  he  seems  the  first  who  brought  them  into  a  system 
of  machinery  for  poetry.” 

The  other  blunder  she  accuses  me  of  is,  the  mistaking 
a  passage  in  Aristotle ;  and  she  is  pleased  to  send  me  back 
to  this  philosopher’s  treatise  of  poetry,  and  to  her  preface 
on  the  Odyssey,  for  my  better  instruction.  Now,  though 
I  am  saucy  enough  to  think  that  one  may  sometimes  differ 
from  Aristotle  without  blundering,  and  though  I  am  sure 
one  may  sometimes  fall  into  an  error  by  following  him 
servilely,  yet  I  own,  that  to  quote  any  author  for  what  he 
never  said,  is  a  blunder;  (but,  by  the  way,  to  correct  an 


POSTSCRIPT. 


417 


author  for  what  he  never  said,  is  somewhat  worse  than  a 
blunder.)  My  words  were  these:  “As  there  is  a  greater 
variety  of  characters  in  the  Iliad  than  in  any  other  poem, 
so  there  is  of  speeches.  Every  thing  in  it  has  manners, 
as  Aristotle  expresses  it;  that  is,  every  thing  is  acted  or 
spoken:  very  little  passes  in  narration.”  She  justly  says, 
that  “Every  thing  which  is  acted  or  spoken  has  not  neces¬ 
sarily  manners,  merely  because  it  is  acted  or  spoken.” 
Agreed:  but  I  would  ask  the  question,  whether  any  thing 
can  have  manners  which  is  neither  acted  nor  spoken?  If 
not,  then  the  whole  Iliad,  being  almost  spent  in  speech 
and  action,  almost  every  thing  in  it  has  manners ;  since 
Homer  has  been  proved  before,  in  a  long  paragraph  of  the 
Preface,  to  have  excelled  in  drawing  characters  and  paint¬ 
ing  manners,  and  indeed  his  whole  poem  is  one  continued 
occasion  of  showing  this  bright  part  of  his  talent. 

To  speak  fairly,  it  is  impossible  she  could  read  even  the 
translation,  and  take  my  sense  so  wrong  as  she  represents 
it;  but  I  was  first  translated  ignorantly,  and  then  read 
partially.  My  expression  indeed  was  not  quite  exact;  it 
should  have  been,  “Every  thing  has  manners,  as  Aristotle 
calls  them.”  But  such  a  fault,  methinks,  might  have  been 
spared ;  since,  if  one  was  to  look  with  that  disposition  she 
discovers  towards  me,  even  on  her  own  excellent  writings, 
one  might  find  some  mistakes  which  no  context  can  redress ; 
as  where  she  makes  Eustathius  call  Cratisthenes  the  Phile- 
sian,  Callisthenes  the  Physician.*  What  a  triumph  might 
some  slips  of  this  sort  have  afforded  to  Homer’s,  hers,  and 
my  enemies,  from  which  she  was  only  screened  by  their 
happy  ignorance!  How  unlucky  had  it  been,  when  she 
insulted  Mr.  de  la  Motte  for  omitting  a  material  passage 
in  the  speechf  of  Helen  to  Hector,  (Iliad  vi.)  if  some 
champion  for  the  moderns  had  by  chance  understood  so 
much  Greek  as  to  whisper  him,  that  there  was  no  such 
passage  in  Homer? 


*  Dacier  Remarques  sur  le  4me  livre  de  l’Odyss.,p.  476. 
t  De  la  Corruption  du  Gout. 

18*  Bb 


418 


POSTSCRIPT. 


Our  concern,  zeal,  and  even  jealousy,  for  our  great 
author’s  honour,  were  mutual,  our  endeavours  to  advance 
it  were  equal,  and  I  have  as  often  trembled  for  it  in  her 
hands,  as  she  could  in  mine.  It  was  one  of  the  many 
reasons  I  had  to  wish  the  longer  life  of  this  lady,  that  I 
must  certainly  have  regained  her  good  opinion,  in  spite 
of  all  misrepresenting  translators  whatever.  I  could  not 
have  expected  it  on  any  other  terms  than  being  approved 
as  great,  if  not  as  passionate,  an  admirer  of  Homer  as 
herself:  for  that  was  the  first  condition  of  her  favour  and 
friendship ;  otherwise  not  one’s  taste  alone,  but  one’s  mo¬ 
rality,  had  been  corrupted;  nor  would  any  man’s  religion 
have  been  suspected,  who  did  not  implicitly  believe  in  an 
author  whose  doctrine  is  so  conformable  to  Holy  Scrip¬ 
ture.  However,  as  different  people  have  different  ways 
of  expressing  their  belief- — some  purely  by  public  and 
general  acts  of  worship,  others  by  a  reverent  sort  of  rea¬ 
soning  and  inquiry  about  the  grounds  of  it — it  is  the  same 
in  admiration:  some  prove  it  by  exclamations,  others  by 
respect.  I  have  observed  that  the  loudest  huzzas  given 
to  a  great  man  in  triumph,  proceed  not  from  his  friends, 
but  the  rabble;  and  as  I  have  fancied  it  the  same  with  the 
rabble  of  critics,  a  desire  to  be  distinguished  from  them 
has  turned  me  to  the  more  moderate,  and,  I  hope,  more 
rational  method.  Though  I  am  a  poet,  I  would  not  be  an 
enthusiast;  and  though  I  am  an  Englishman,  I  would  not 
be  furiously  of  a  party.  I  am  far  from  thinking  myself 
that  genius  upon  whom,  at  the  end  of  these  remarks, 
Madame  Dacier  congratulates  my  country:  one  capable 
of  “correcting  Homer,  and  consequently  of  reforming 
mankind,  and  amending  this  constitution.”  It  was  not  to 
Great  Britain  this  ought  to  have  been  applied,  since  our 
nation  has  one  happiness  for  which  she  might  have  pre¬ 
ferred  it  to  her  own,  that,  as  much  as  we  abound  in  other 
miserable,  misguided  sects,  we  have  at  least  none  of  the 
blasphemers  of  Homer.  We  steadfastly  and  unanimously 
believe  both  his  poem  and  our  constitution  to  be  the  best 


POSTSCRIPT. 


419 


that  ever  human  wit  invented;  that  the  one  is  not  more 
incapable  of  amendment  than  the  other ;  and,  old  as  they 
both  are,  we  despise  any  French  or  English  man  whatever 
who  shall  presume  to  retrench,  to  innovate,  or  to  make  the 
least  alteration  in  either.  Far,  therefore,  from  the  genius 
for  which  Madame  Dacier  mistook  me,  my  whole  desire 
is  but  to  preserve  the  humble  character  of  a  faithful  trans¬ 
lator  and  a  quiet  subject. 


V 


% 


-f 


I 


(n 


So'  • 


'V 


% 


li 


■>rnyy!  Joif  .trilf  JW/;  "  'iU 

>tf}  b*o  -brc:^  3 


b-v'b^' ,>nT  .^Vi*' :'V^v*-1'  ,  < 


b 


.f  f»»  '-><-•>■ 

')«>  Iji4.  .1=  i<uu) 

"i’b  r  fbi? 

,  v)t(rf^  i\  '><!»  r^*::-{''m»t^>*  ,vr4i(s.iw;  >^i^. 

^f.tln<^•'f^f?lj5!»t^'^•t  !  ji't  ;b'3"j  •-  »i'S[: , 

;f,vf  4ul,.'- //  <ii' 


‘  ■  tM  '’-^•'^'tt;Ar''»v.  i  •^: 

:#iil  l»i  -^iiKi?^  «' 


•  “'I  >  f' 


v'-^  : ' ''V 


<-  ■■ ;  >;)»>4;?f*ft  ,  ;,•: 

'^4  'bv^^trwr  ;.v  V/  <;.iV.';^^r 

*  '  /  -  ^  *  •.  .  *  i  i'  ^  l* 

.'K'?“.-^««:’!>‘iT :r', ';’'(!  te'  'j‘'r6^4k  H'i  'triP'Js'isiilirjTh  ■■' 


■'.  r 


r<»fti>>i  Ob  ^£i  t^funaivy  vV.:itij-.  ui  'liti.  ;.  { 


y.?  ■  ,  ^  ■y>i 

^h  il  U'>i.U.,i2v^tUl:4  7.{)q 

•‘♦li  /Kj^t^  khi  Usi  it.-  oif>ii. «Ar? 

€ii  ^►'5i^;e;«_  v',9fi?d^  '■■':y  ’O  :  f'flUfj  Htjds 

'  .'^)K*an/.utgcrrf'§iif~fo  £-.'bi  t?Bofi  jc  rfuv-'  1  vu  s««as>M5;'W» 


CONCLUSION  OF  THE  NOTES. 


u; 


1 


It  is  well  known  that  Pope  received  very  important 
assistance  from  Broome  in  completing  his  translation  of 
the  Odyssey,  besides  material  aid  from  Fenton.  The 
notes  were  mostly,  if  not  wholly,  compiled  by  the  former, 
and  were  very  voluminous,  if  not  interesting.  According 
to  Ruffhead,  Pope  gave  Fenton  six  hundred  pounds,  and 
Broome  three  hundred,  for  their  trouble;  but,  according 
to  Warton,  Fenton  had  only  three  hundred,  and  Broome 
five  hundred,  which,  from  their  respective  shares  in  the 
work,  as  mentioned  in  another  place,  seems  more  likely 
to  be  the  fact. 

We  subjoin  the  following  “conclusion  of  the  notes,”  pre¬ 
suming  it  will  be  deemed  all  that  is  requisite. — Ed. 

I  MUST  observe  with  what  dignity  Homer  concludes  the 
Odyssey:  to  honour  his  hero,  he  introduces  two  deities, 
Jupiter  and  Pallas,  who  interest  themselves  in  his  cause: 
he  then  paints  Ulysses  in  the  boldest  colours,  as  he  rushes 
upon  the  enemy  with  the  utmost  intrepidity,  and  his  cour¬ 
age  is  so  ungovernable,  that' Jupiter  is  forced  to  restrain  it 
with  his  thunder.  It  is  usual  for  orators  to  reserve  the 
strongest  arguments  for  the  conclusion,  that  they  may  leave 
them  fresh  upon  the  reader’s  memory;  Homer  uses  the 
same  conduct:  he  represents  his  hero  in  all  his  terror,  he 
shows  him  to  be  irresistible,  and  by  this  method  leaves  us 
fully  possessed  with  a  noble  idea  of  his  magnanimity. 


422 


CONCLUSION  OF  THE  NOTES. 


It  has  been  already  observed,  that  the  end  of  the  action 
of  the*  Odyssey  is  the  reestablishment  of  Ulysses  in  full 
peace  and  tranquillity;  this  is  not  effected  till  the  defeat 
of  the  suitors’  friends ;  and,  therefore,  if  the  poet  had  con¬ 
cluded  before  this  event,  the  Odyssey  had  been  imperfect. 
It  'was  necessary  that  the  reader  should  not  only  be 
informed  of  the  return  of  Ulysses  to  his  country,  and  the 
punishment  of  the  suitors,  but  of  his  reestablishment,  by  a 
peaceful  possession  of  his  regal  authority;  which  is  not 
executed  till  these  last  disorders  raised  by  Eupithes  are 
settled  by  the  victory  of  Ulysses;  and,  therefore,  this  is 
the  natural  conclusion  of  the  action. 

This  [the  last]  book  opens  with  the  morning,  and  ends 
before  night;  so  that  the  whole  story  of  the  Odyssey  is 
comprehended  in  the  compass  of  one-and-forty  days. — 
Monsieur  Dacier  upon  Aristotle  remarks,  that  an  epic 
poem  ought  not  to  be  too  long:  we  should  be  able  to 
retain  all  the  several  parts  of  it  at  once  in  our  memory: 
if  we  lose  the  idea  of  the  beginning  when  we  come  to  the 
conclusion,  it  is  an  argument  that  it  is  of  too  large  an 
extent,  and  its  length  destroys  its  beauty.  What  seems 
to  favour  this  decision  is,  that  the  iEneid,  Iliad,  and  Odys¬ 
sey,  are  conformable  to  this  rule  of  Aristotle ;  and  every 
one  of  those  poems  may  be  read  in  the  compass  of  a 
single  day. 

I  have  now  gone  through  the  collections  upon  the 
Odyssey,  and  laid  together  what  occurred  most  remark¬ 
able  in  this  excellent  poem.  I  am  not  so  vain  as  to  think 
these  remarks  free  from  faults,  nor  so  disingenuous  as  not 
to  confess  them:  all  writers  have  occasion  for  indulgence, 
and  those  most  who  least  acknowledge  it.  I  have  some¬ 
times  used  Madame  Dacier  as  she  has  done  others,  in 


CONCLUSION  OF  THE  NOTES. 


423 


transcribing  some  of  her  remarks  without  particularizing 
them;  but,  indeed,  it  was  through  inadvertency  only  that 
her  name  is  sometimes  omitted  at  the  bottom  of  the  note. 
If  my  performance  has  merit,  either  in  these  or  in  my  part 
of  the  translation — namely,  in  the  sixth,  eleventh,  and 
eighteenth  books — it  is  but  just  to  attribute  it  to  the  judg¬ 
ment  and  care  of  Mr.  Pope,  by  whose  hand  every  sheet 
was  corrected.  His  other,  and  much  more  able  assistant, 
was  Mr.  Fenton,  in  the  fourth  and  the  twentieth  books. 
It  was  our  particular  request,  that  our  several  parts  might 
not  be  made  known  to  the  world  till  the  end  of  it;  and  if 
they  have  had  the  good  fortune  not  to  be  distinguished  from 
his,  we  ought  to  be  the  less  vain,  since  the  resemblance 
proceeds  much  less  from  our  diligence  and  study  to  copy 
his  manner,  than  from  his  own  daily  revisal  and  correction. 
The  most  experienced  painters  will  not  wonder  at  this,  who 
very  well  know  that  no  critic  can  pronounce,  even  of  the 
pieces  of  Raphael  or  Titian,  which  have,  or  which  have 
not,  been  worked  upon  by  those  of  their  school ;  when  the 
same  master’s  hand  has  directed  the  execution  of  the 
whole,  reduced  it  to  one  character  and  colouring,  gone 
over  the  several  parts,  and  given  to  each  their  finishing. 

I  must  not  conclude  without  declaring  our  mutual  satis¬ 
faction  in  Mr.  Pope’s  acceptance  of  our  best  endeavours, 
which  have  contributed  at  least  to  his  more  speedy  execu¬ 
tion  of  this  great  undertaking.  If  ever  my  name  be  num¬ 
bered  with  the  learned,  I  must  ascribe  it  to  his  friendship, 
in  transmitting  it  to  posterity  by  a  participation  in  his 
labours.  May  the  sense  I  have  of  this,  and  other  instances 
of  that  friendship,  be  known  as  long  as  his  name  will  cause 
mine  to  last;  and  may  I  to  this  end  be  permitted,  at  the 
conclusion  of  a  work,  which  is  a  kind  of  monument  of 


424 


CONCLUSION  OF  THE  NOTES. 


his  partiality  to  me,  to  place  the  following  lines,  as  an 
inscription  memorial  of  it: 

Let  vulgar  souls  triumphal  arches  raise. 

Or  speaking  marbles,  to  record  their  praise; 

And  picture  (to  the  voice  of  Fame  unknown) 

The  mimic  feature  on  the  breathing  stone: 

Mere  mortals !  subject  to  Death’s  total  sway. 

Reptiles  of  earth,  and  beings  of  a  day! 

’Tis  thine  on  every  heart  to  grave  thy  praise, 

A  monument  which  worth  alone  can  raise: 

Sure  to  survive  when  time  shall  whelm  in  dust 
The  arch,  the  marble,  and  the  mimic  bust : 

Nor,  till  the  volumes  of  th’  expanded  sky 

Blaze  in  one  flame,  shalt  thou  and  Homer  die ;  ^ 

Then  sink  together,  in  the  world’s  last  fires. 

What  Heaven  created  and  what  Heaven  inspires. 

If  aught  on  earth,  when  once  this  breath  is  fled. 

With  human  transport  touch  the  mighty  dead, 
Shakspeare,  rejoice!  his  hand  thy  page  refines; 

Now  every  scene  with  native  brightness  shines: 

Just  to  thy  fame,  he  gives  thy  genuine  thought: 

So  Tully  publish’d  what  Lucretius  wrote: 

Pruned  by  his  care,  thy  laurels  loftier  grow, 

And  bloom  afresh  on  thy  immortal  brow. 

Thus  when  thy  draughts,  O  Raphael !  time  invades. 
And  the  bold  figure  from  the  canvas  fades, 

A  rival  hand  recalls  from  every  part 
Some  latent  grace,  and  equals  art  with  art: 

Transported,  we  survey  the  dubious  strife. 

While  each  fair  image  starts  again  to  life. 

How  long,  untuned,  had  Homer’s  sacred  lyre 
Jarr’d  grating  discord,  all-extinct  his  fire! 

This  you  beheld;  and,  taught  by  Heaven  to  sing. 

Call’d  the  loud  music  from  the  sounding  string. 

Now,  waked  from  slumbers  of  three  thousand  years. 
Once  more  Achilles  in  dread  pomp  appears. 


CONCLUSION  OF  THE  NOTES.  425 

Towers  o’er  the  field  of  death;  as  fierce  he  turns,  .i 

Keen  flash  his  arms,  and  all  the  hero  burns;  '  r 

With  martial  stalk,  and  more  than  mortal  might. 

He  strides  along,  and  meets  the  gods  in  fight: 

Then  the  pale  Titans,  chain’d  on  burning  floors. 

Start  at  the  din  that  rends  th’  infernal  shores ; 

Tremble  the  towers  of  Heaven,  earth  rocks  her  coasts, 
And  gloomy  Pluto  shakes  with  all  his  ghosts. 

To  every  theme  responds  thy  various  lay ; 

Here  rolls  a  torrent,  there  Meanders  play ; 

Sonorous  as  the  storm  thy  numbers  rise. 

Toss  the  wild  waves,  and  thunder  in  the  skies ; 

Or,  softer  than  a  yielding  virgin’s  sigh. 

The  gentle  breezes  breathe  away,  and  die. 

Thus,  like  the  radiant  God  who  sheds  the  day. 

You  paint  the  vale,  or  gild  the  azure  way ; 

And,  while  with  every  theme  the  verse  complies. 

Sink  without  grovelling,  without  rashness  rise. 

Proceed,  great  bard !  awake  th’  harmonious  string. 

Be  ours  all  Homer !  still  Ulysses  sing. 

How  long*  that  hero,  by  unskilful  hands 
Stripp’d  of  his  robes,  a  beggar  trod  our  lands : 

Such  as  he  wander’d  o’er  his  native  coast. 

Shrunk  by  the  wand,  and  all  the  warrior  lost? 

O’er  his  smooth  skin  a  bark  of  wrinkles  spread ; 

Old  age  disgraced  the  honours  of  his  head ; 

Nor  longer  in  his  heavy  eye-ball  shined 

The  glance  divine,  forth-beaming  from  the  mind. 

But  you,  like  Pallas,  every  limb  infold 
With  royal  robes,  and  bid  him  shine  in  gold; 

Touch’d  by  your  hand,  his  manly  frame  improves 
With  grace  divine,  and  like  a  god  he  moves. 

Ev’n  I,  the  meanest  of  the  Muse’s  train. 

Inflamed  by  thee,  attempt  a  nobler  strain ; 

Adventurous  waken  the  Mseonian  lyre. 

Tuned  by  your  hand,  and  sing  as  you  inspire; 


*  Odyssey,  Lib.  XVI. 


426 


CONCLUSION  OF  THE  NOTES.  ' 


So,  armed  by  great  Achilles  for  the  fight, 

Patroclus  conquer’d  in  Achilles’  right:  '  p. 

Like  their’ s,  our  friendship!  and  I  boast  my  name 
To  thine  united:  for  thy  friendship’s  fame. 

This  labour  past,  of  heavenly  subjects  sing. 

While  hovering  angels  listen  on  the  wing. 

To  hear  from  earth  such  heart-felt  raptures  rise 
As,  when  they  sing,  suspended  hold  the  skies : 

Or,  nobly  rising  in  fair  Virtue’s  cause. 

From  thy  own  life  transcribe  th’  unerring  laws : 

Teach  a  bad  world  beneath  her  sway  to  bend; 

To  verse  like  thine  fierce  savages  attend. 

And  men  more  fierce:  when  Orpheus  tunes  the  lay, 

Ev’n  fiends  relenting  hear  their  rage  away. 

,  1 

W.  BROOME. 


nr 


• '  ^ 


> 


*  >y' 


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